


Two Volumes of one Book

by Lakritzwolf



Series: Unintended Consequences [2]
Category: The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Angst, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Non-canonical children, Post-Season 03 AU, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 107,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><img/><br/> </p>
</div>It’s been twelve years since the day that Anders’s world got unhinged and the Johnsons somehow managed to turn into a functional family with the appearance of an abandoned and helpless little boy.<p>During those years Anders has taken great pains to ensure that his son would not be turned into a second version of himself, but their lives had, and sometimes still have, a lot of similarities. Like two volumes of one book.</p><p>Now that boy has turned into a teen who gives his father a headache as many times as he makes him proud. Russell has turned out to be a real prodigy regarding languages, and at seventeen, he wants nothing more than to study Norse history and languages and is busily making plans to go to Norway for a few months. Understandably, Anders isn’t thrilled by that plan but the gods have long been gone, together with all the other creatures like dwarfs and giants. </p><p>But sometimes, the past comes back a long way to haunt you. And the Johnsons will have a lot of explaining to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CalamityKitten (KirstRavensoul)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirstRavensoul/gifts), [FiliKiliThorinForever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiliKiliThorinForever/gifts).



> Are we not like two volumes of one book?  
> ― Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

Slightly tipsy from two bottles of wine they were giggling under the sheets like children.

“Anders!”  
“Hm?” Anders let his lips slide down Carol’s neck, knowing full well the effect his beard had on her.   
“You’re tickling me!”  
“I know.” He gently bit down into the soft skin of her neck. “Would you rather I tickle you somewhere else?”

Carol propped herself up onto her elbows and Anders looked up as well, head tilted and a twinkle in his eyes. She shook her head, making her dark locks bob around her face. 

“Why don’t you?” She said in what was almost a purr.  
Anders winked and vanished under the blanket again.  
“Anders...” This time it sounded less annoyed and amused and more needy. 

Anders skilfully dragged the beard he had been cultivating for months across the soft skin between her breasts, smiling to himself at the sounds she made. 

Carol had said she liked it. Dawn had said it lent him an air of respectability and credibility. Whatever it looked like, though, concerning Carol, it was nothing short of a sex toy.

Her body was writhing under him, shivers running across the silky skin in anticipation, and she was moaning his name. 

“Anders...”   
He smiled against the skin of her belly and moved lower.  
“Anders!”

“Dad?”

Carol yelped like a Victorian lady at the sight of a mouse and Anders took a punch to the chin by one of her knees. He hastily scrambled out from under the blanket and spun around to see Russell stand in the doorframe, his hair tousled and his T-shirt slipped up and twisted almost into a knot.

“Russell?”  
“I had a bad dream,” Russell muttered, his eyes wide and resting on Carol who had drawn the blanket up to her neck.   
“Russ...” Anders gingerly rubbed his chin. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re supposed to knock when Carol stays over?”  
“’M sorry...” Russell said and lowered his head. “I forgot.”  
“Okay, but...”

“Nothing’s okay!” Carol sat up against the headboard, the blanket still firmly in place and wedged into her armpits to keep it in place. “This is the third time in as many weeks!”  
“Carol, please, he’s only ten...”  
“I know!” She swung her feet out of the bed and hastily wrapped herself into the blanket. “You told me several times! And as sweet as he is, Anders, I can’t...” She sighed in frustration, grabbed her shirt and underwear and vanished into the en-suite, blanket draped around her.

Russell looked close to tears.  
“Russ...” Anders sat down on the edge of the mattress and dragged both hands down his face.  
“I’m sorry, Dad!”  
“I know.” Anders looked up again. “But this is really not going to work if you...”

Carol emerged again from the bathroom, now in panties, bra and her T-shirt. She dropped the blanket onto the bed. 

Russ shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry, Carol.”  
Carol heaved a sigh. “You know, Russell... you really should learn to respect your father’s privacy.”  
Fidgeting under her stern look, Russell stared at his feet. “Sorry.”  
Anders scratched his beard. “Carol, really, it’s...”  
“And how many times more?” Carol interrupted him. “Anders, I know you don’t have much of a problem with this, he’s your son, after all, but for the love of god, if he can’t respect your privacy, what about mine?”  
“Carol, cut him some slack. We’ve only been dating for less than half a year, how is he supposed to be used to this?”

“Yes, precisely, it’s been months! And he can’t get used to this, I understand.” Carol picked up her jeans. “But the sad truth is, neither can I.”  
Anders got up as she buttoned up her jeans. “Hang on, you’re not just going to run out on me like that?”  
“Anders!! Put some clothes on in front of...”  
“Carol, please.” Anders ran both hands through his hair. “You really think he doesn’t know what his father looks like?”

Carol stared at him for a moment, then let her eyes wander up and down his body until she looked at his face again. “I guess not,” she gave back. “That’s something I won’t get used to it as well.”  
“What? Kids knowing what their parents look like?”  
“To each his own,” Carol said and looked at Russell. “As long as you don’t expect me...”  
“You know I wouldn’t!” Anders went hunting for his briefs. “Carol, we’ve been over this!”

“Well.” Carol adjusted her shirt and headed for the door.   
“Hold on!” Anders struggled into his briefs and caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t just walk out like that!”

Carol turned around with a sigh. “Anders...” She shook her head. “As much as I love you, this is getting exhausting.”  
Anders frowned at her in angry confusion. “What the hell? You told me yourself this will need time until everything falls into place!”  
“Yes but...” She shook her head, eyes full of sadness. “I think I overestimated myself.”  
“What?!”

“Anders...” Carol put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I...”  
“Now hang on.” Anders narrowed his eyes. “You’re leading me on for three months with things like ‘we gotta wait for the right moment’ and ‘we shouldn’t move to fast’ and after two more months you’re just ditching me because of...”  
“I am not ditching you!” Carol grabbed her jacket.  
“Then what is it you’re doing? You’re walking out on me like that after a minor hiccup in the...”

“Minor hiccup?” Carol slung her jacket over her shoulder. “Minor hiccup? Anders, this was the sixth time it happened! It’s a bit hard, trying to build a relationship when there’s no chance for intimacy.”  
“So six nights of interruption isn’t worth all the others where it didn’t happen?”  
“You could at least lock the door!”  
“And leave him stand in front of a locked door at night when he wakes up with a nightmare? We have a ‘No-Locked-Doors’ Policy for a reason and... Carol you have no idea how Russell would feel when...”  
“And what about my feelings?”  
“Carol, he’s only a child...”

Carol fell silent and closed her eyes for a moment. “This isn’t...”  
“Carol, for god’s sake, please...” Anders took a step forward and rested his palms on her cheek. “We have a really good thing going on here and...”  
“For you, maybe.”  
Anders dropped his hands. “What the fuck do you mean with that?”  
“I mean,” Carol said as she slipped into her sandals. “I mean that it’s a huge step up for you as a single father. For me? I just loose all...

“What?” Anders crossed his arms. “Second thoughts? You knew from the beginning that a ten-year-old was a part of the equation!”  
“And apparently I had no idea what that would entail!” Carol adjusted her heel in the second Sandal and shook her head. “I’m sorry Anders... I need... I need to think.”  
“Yeah,” Anders said with a bitter smile. “Sure.”

Carol bit her lip and shook her head, then she leaned forward and pecked a kiss onto his lips. “I’ll call you.”

Anders closed the door behind her and resisted the urge to slam it. He fell against the wall with a groan and closed his eyes, then he took a deep breath and pushed himself off again. 

Russell was out of sight, and the door to his room was closed. Despite that, Anders could hear him cry. With another sigh, he headed for the door and knocked.

“Russ?” When he got no reply, he cautiously opened the door a crack. “Russell? Can I come in?”  
Russell was sitting up against the headboard and was clutching and sobbing into his pillow. In between the sobs, Anders could hear something that sounded like a vaguely confirmative noise.

“Hey,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “There’s no need for that, really.”  
“I didn’t want her to go!” Russell peeled his face out of the pillow. “I’m sorry Dad! I forgot!”  
“I know.” Anders ran a hand through Russell’s hair to smooth it back.   
“Will she come back?”  
“Honestly?” Anders shrugged with a crooked smile. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that... that...”

Russell wiped a hand across his nose and gave him such a desolate stare that Anders felt a pinch in his abdomen. 

“Russ.” He took one of the boy’s hands. “No one, and I mean no one, is ever going to make me decide between you and someone else.”

Unpleasant memories, really. Sarah had him fall head over heels and after a few heated weeks of quick fucks and joined lunch breaks, she had demanded before the first night she stayed at his place that Russell wouldn’t be at home. He had never looked at her again.   
Ellen had been thrilled until she had to discover that an eight year old isn’t a baby you can put in a play pen to keep him out of your hair.

Carol had been the first woman during the almost five years since Russell had come into his life who had made a real effort. She and Russell had gotten along really well, but all of a sudden none of that seemed to matter anymore. 

All three of those women had known they would have to share him with a kid. None of them had been able to deal with it. 

Russell looked up at him and Anders managed a smile. True, he was angry, and disappointed, but none of these feelings were directed at his son. He squeezed the small and warm hand resting in his palm and nodded.

“We’re a team, Russ. You and me. And if anyone can’t handle that... then that’s their loss.”  
His face still wet with tears, Russell managed a shy smile as well. “You and me, Dad?”  
“You and me, Russ.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Right, that’s settled then,” Mike said as he crawled out of the cabinet under the sink. “Shouldn’t give you any more trouble.”  
“Thanks, Mikkel.” Anders poured the coffee. “It’s amazing how much money you save me, Mr Handyman.”  
Mike wiped his hands on his trousers and accepted the offered cup. “Anytime, brother of mine.”

They shared a grin. True, after twelve years they had gotten used to this, their ease in each other’s presence, but they hadn’t forgotten how hard a time they had given each other before Wellington. Before a little boy had changed all of their lives. It was in moments like these when old memories reared their ugly heads, but a smile could banish them as quickly as they had come.

They sipped their coffee in silence, and Mike looked idly around, and towards the family area where the sofa had been replaced by a piano a few years ago.

“Say, just curious...” Mike began and looked at Anders again. “Are you still seeing that woman you met at Woolworths?”  
Anders lifted his eyebrows.  
“If you don’t mind me asking...”  
After a shrug, Anders put his cup down. “Mikkel, meeting the love of your life by running into each other in a store and spilling the contents of your shopping baskets only works in cheap romance movies.”  
“So you don’t see her anymore?”

Anders crossed his arms and shook his head. “Didn’t get past the first date. Having a teenage son isn’t really a selling point.”  
“It just doesn’t work for you, does it...? Didn’t know so many women are that shallow.”  
“I don’t think being shallow has anything to do with it.” Anders poured himself another coffee. “If I had met a woman with a teenage son, I’d have run away as far and fast as possible no matter how much I’d have the hots for her.”

Before Mike could say anything, said teenage son came bouncing down the stairs with a guitar case strapped to his back.

“Hey, uncle!”  
“Hey, nephew!”

Mike and Russell high-fived. At seventeen, Russell had finally stopped growing – to Anders’s relief, as Russell had been outgrowing his clothes almost faster than Anders could buy them – but to his disappointment, he hadn’t inherited the tall Johnson genes. So now he would always look more or less like a copy of his father. The differences were miniscule, and more than once the Johnson brothers had joked that seemingly his mother hadn’t gotten a word in, back when the genes had been assigned.

Russell passed the kitchen counter and grabbed a cookie that he stuffed into his mouth.

“You’re welcome,” Anders said drily.  
“Thank you!” Russell mumbled around the cookie clamped between his lips.  
“You’re going jamming?”  
Russell swallowed half the cookie and nodded. “Danny’s parents said it’s okay for us to borrow the attic today.”

“Hey.” Mike folded his arms on the kitchen counter. “What sort of music are you doing?”  
“Right now we’re trying rhythm ’n‘ blues,” Russell replied and slipped into his trainers.  
“And who’s doing what?”

Russell patted the guitar case on his back. “Well, duh,” he said with a grin. “Danny’s drums, and he said he said he found someone who plays bass. We’re still trying to get Emma to join.”  
“Emma?” Mike chuckled. “You never mentioned she’s making music too.”  
“She’s ace with her sax.” Russell shrugged the guitar case off to be able to deal with his shoelaces. “But she doesn’t like to play in front of people.”  
“Other people than you.” Anders took a sip of coffee.

Russell gave his father a long, pointed look.

“Or why would you know she’s ace?”  
Russell rolled his eyes. “Okay, so she plays for me. She doesn’t like playing for an audience.”  
“Like other people whose names I won’t mention,” Anders gave back and looked at the piano. Then he turned to Mike. “I swear he only plays when he’s sure that no one listens to him and might get it into their head to invite him to play at their wedding.”  
“Dad...”  
“Or their auntie’s funeral.”  
“Dad! You’re gross!”

Mike tried to hide his grin behind a hand he rubbed down his chin.

“So, you and Emma...?” Mike began.  
“Uncle Mike!” Russell rolled his eyes. “No, she’s my friend! She’s been my friend since kindergarten!”  
“So?”  
“You don’t get it, do you?”  
“No, admittedly, I don’t.”

Russell, now looking slightly miffed, had finished tying his shoes and strapped the guitar case back on. 

“Don’t forget your helmet!”  
Russell rolled his eyes so hard they looked as if they would fall out of his head. “Yes, mom!” He picked the bike helmet from the wardrobe.  
“How about you eat self-made sandwiches for dinner for the rest of the week?”  
“Man, Dad!”  
“Yes, I am aware of my relationship with you. You want dinner, I’m making lasagne, but I am not going to wait for you again. Cold lasagne is nasty.”  
“Cool!” Russell’s beaming smile was back. “Home at six!”  
“Bye.”  
“Bye dad! Bye Mike!”

He was out of the door and swung himself onto his bicycle that was leaning against the wall next to the doorframe.

Mike shook his head several times. “Is it possible that he’s a bit touchy on the subject of girls?”  
“Mikkel...” Anders looked at his empty cup and decided against another coffee. “Every seventeen year old chap is. Forgotten how it feels to be an awkward teen?”  
“Apparently, I have.” Mike gave Anders a shit-eating little grin. “Not everyone got stuck in their teens after turning twenty-one and mutating into a sex addict.”  
Anders half-heartedly attempted to clout Mike over the head. “And not everyone got left on the scrap heap after turning twenty-one.”

They shared another grin and Mike took a sip of his coffee.

“So... you’re not seeing her... what was her name?”  
“Sandy. No, I’m not seeing her again. As I mentioned, she couldn’t handle the thought of a teenage son.”  
“Her loss.”  
“I don’t blame, her, honestly. It’s just a bit too much to swallow. And it doesn’t get easier with time.”  
“Come on, Anders, you’re not left on the scrap heap, either.”  
“Maybe not on the scrap heap,” Anders gave back and carried his cup to the sink to give it a rinse. “But... yeah.” 

Anders stared straight ahead for a moment, his lips a thin line. 

“And I swore to myself after Carol that I’d stop wasting time and effort on this. Couldn’t get used to women dropping me like a hot potato when I mention my son.”  
“Come on, Anders, it can’t be that bad?”  
“Have you tried dating with a teenage son?”  
“No, I haven’t.” Mike’s smile vanished. “I don’t have a son, remember?”

Anders cleared his throat. “Sorry...”  
Mike shrugged. “Sorry for snapping. I don’t know what brought that on.”  
“You always wanted kids and never had any. And then I, of all people, end up with a little boy.” He shrugged as well. “I don’t blame you for being a little bitter every now and then. At least your love life isn’t non-existent.”

“Oh come on. As far as I know you’re still getting these free weekends from Ty and Dawn to get laid?”  
This time it was Anders who rolled his eyes. “Yes, my sex life is somehow still functioning. It’s my love life I’m talking about.”  
Mike’s eyebrows rose into his hairline.  
“Yeah, guess what.” Anders turned away with a frown. “During the last eleven years I learned that they’re not the same.”  
“I still think you shouldn’t have given up on Christine that easily.”

Anders turned around again. “I never gave up on her Mike, because there was never anything to give up. She didn’t want to, and we both decided we’d be better off as friends. And honestly?” He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “Over the years, we both agreed more and more on the point that we work better as friends than we would as lovers. There are a lot of things where we just don’t click.”  
Mike shrugged. “Still...”  
“No, not still.” Anders shook his head. “I know, and god knows you’re not the only one thinking it. I swear half the parents of Russell’s classmates have been trying to hook us up for years. No, Mikkel... whatever happens, me and Chris are not going to happen. Ever.”  
“You say that now.”  
Anders huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Jesus Christ, can you let it rest? I’ve been saying it for ten years!”  
“Okay...” Mike said placatory and lifted his hands. “Sorry. I just think it’s a shame you’re alone, now that you’re realised that a woman is not only worth her pussy.”  
“Yeah, what can I say.” Anders shrugged again.

But after a moment of silence, Anders looked up and dropped his arms. He pointed at the door with a crooked little smile.

“But you know what? Even though that little shit is the reason for my sexual deficiencies, I never blamed him for that. One of the things I was most afraid of, back in Wellington when everything came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. But I didn’t blame him when he was ten, and I don’t blame him now.” He dug into a pocket and produced a coin that he dropped into the piggybank on the windowsill. “No one asked him. It was my choice and well... I come as part of a package deal. And that won’t change. They tried to make me chose, Mike. Two of them, at least. They honest-to-goodness expected me to be able to chose between a woman and my son.”  
“And what kind of bullshit is that? You’re supposed to give up your kid for adoption for a fuck?”  
“Not that, but what they meant is than when they’re staying over, than Russell should stay somewhere else.”  
“I hope you told them to go fuck themselves.”  
“That, and I wasn’t going to put up with that shit.” Another coin joined the first one.

Mike looked back and forth between the piggy bank and his brother. “Did you even realise what you were doing?”  
“Doing? Doing what?”  
Mike wordlessly pointed at the piggy bank.

Anders blinked a few times, then he dropped his head with a chuckle. “Christ... I’m pathetic.”  
“No, I think you’re impressive.”  
Anders looked up.  
“Still, after all those years.” Mike smiled wistfully. “You’ve worked so hard and sometimes, it’s hard to remember the prick you were before Russell came along.”  
“We’ve been over this, Mike. A million times, in fact.”  
“I know. I still don’t get where that change in attitude towards women came from. I mean, I get that you needed to adjust your lifestyle for Russ, but I never expected you to be a man looking for a real relationship.”

Anders didn’t reply for a long time. “It’s... it’s hard to explain,” he finally said. “I mean... in the beginning I was just glad to get out again and get my end away, but then... one evening I was trying to hit on a twenty-something young beauty and I suddenly thought of...” He rubbed a hand across his neck and then crossed his arms. “That she was someone’s daughter, you know? That somewhere, there was a father, just like me, who had her on his knees and read stories when she was little. And here... I was about to treat her like a piece of meat and... and I thought what if someone did that to Russ, or what if she was mine...” He broke off and his breath escaped him in a rush. “Fuck, now I sound even more pathetic than ever.”

“No, you don’t.” Mike said and rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “God knows you didn’t have much of a moral code, but that’s what it was all about. You told me that Russell has made you a better man. And if that’s not a clear sign of that, then I don’t know what is.”  
Anders tried to smile.  
“Honestly. You worked so hard to get over yourself, and you sacrificed your whole life to get where you are today.”  
“Russell being a little shit?”  
“Russell being a little shit. A healthy, happy, seventeen year old chap who plays several instruments and gives you a headache at every turn and angle. Tell me, would anything like what happened earlier between the two of you have happened between Russ and McInnis if he’d stayed in Wellington?”

Their eyes met, and after a moment of silence, Anders finally shook his head.

“Christ, no. He wouldn’t even play an instrument. And he sure as fuck wouldn’t bicker with his stepfather.”  
“See. You’re a good dad, Anders. You’re a good man. You’re still looking good and you have a good business. And some day, you’ll meet a woman who can value that.”  
“Gimme a break.” Anders grabbed Mike’s cup and headed for the sink. “I’m past forty, Mike, and I have a seventeen year old son. It’s not going to happen.”  
“Mark my words.”  
“Stop giving me the clan elder routine, Mikkel.”

Mike stepped beside Anders and draped an arm around his younger brother’s shoulders. “She’s somewhere out there.”  
“Mike, life’s not a romance novel. This is not _When Harry met Sally_. You should know that better than anyone.”  
“Yeah... I know but...” Mike sighed “I wish there was anything I could do to help.”  
Anders looked up and met Mike’s eyes. “Just do me one favour, yes? Stop trying to hook me up with Christine.”  
“I’ll not mention it again.”  
“Thanks.”

Mike squeezed his shoulders and let go again.


	3. Chapter 3

Impatiently tapping his foot, Anders stood at the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms.

“Russ! We’re supposed to be there at two!”  
“I’m coming!” The bathroom door flew open. “Jesus, keep your pants on, Dad! Seriously!”  
“Right. I don’t want to be too late, so I’m off now. You just take the bike.”  
“Dad!”  
“See you!”  
“Dad!!”

Russell came dashing down the stairs. “Christ! I was just...”  
“Russ...” Anders had to suppress the urge to face palm. “I know I said no formal clothes but are you seriously going to your cousin’s birthday party in...” He gestured vaguely at Russell’s wardrobe, “...that?”  
Russell looked down at himself, and at the worn jeans, the Metallica T-Shirt and the plaid shirt. “So what? She’s, like, ten! It’s not as if she cares what I wear!”

Anders heaved a heavy sigh. “I swear you inherited your sense of dress code from your youngest uncle.”  
Russell rolled his eyes. “So what? Uncle Axl is the most fun of them!”  
“I figured.” Anders shook his head. “Can we go now?”  
“Yes! I am... oh shit, hang on!”

Russell turned on his heel and ran up the stairs again. Anders pinched the bridge of his nose, but Russell raced the stairs back down moments later with a gift wrapped in pink paper. 

“Present!”  
“Piggybank.”   
Russell rolled his eyes again. “Dad...”  
“Own up. There are rules in this house and...”  
“Yeah, I know. I know, right?” Russell dug a hand into his pocket, produced a dollar and dropped it into the piggybank. “There. Satisfied?”  
“It’ll have to do for now. Now, can we go?”

Russell gave his father a death stare, but Anders skilfully ignored that and headed for the door, jangling his keys, and left Russ to struggle into his converse. He backed the car out of the garage and waited, but just as he was contemplating killing the engine again Russell closed the door behind him and headed for the car. With a grin, he fell into the passenger seat. He had undone his ponytail and slipped the elastic onto his wrist.

“Needed some grooming?”   
“Dad...”  
“Or are you trying to impress someone?” Anders backed out of the driveway.   
“Dad!”  
“Because there’s no one at the party but family, and I’d be worried if you felt the need to make yourself pretty for your cousin’s tenth birthday.”  
“Seriously Dad, that isn’t even funny.”  
“I think it’s hilarious,” Anders gave back drily.

Then he cast a quick look at his son who looked back. Their eyes met.

“Dad jokes,” Russell said with a sigh.

Anders looked at the road again with a smirk.

* * *

As they entered Ty’s and Dawn’s house, the sounds their girls emitted upon the sight of Russell made everyone wince and probably several dogs in the immediate neighbourhood whine. 

“Hey!” Russell gathered the collection of girls up and all three of them clung to him like burdocks.  
“You should wear that more often,” Anders remarked. “Suits you.”

Russell lost his balance and for this time, was too busy being buried under a heap of cousins to snark back. Anders watched his son tumble around on the carpet with three little girls between five and ten and shook his head with a smile. 

“I swear, sometimes I think he hasn’t aged a day since his seventh birthday.”  
“But he’s having fun,” Ty replied and handed Anders a coffee.  
“He’s having the time of his life,” Anders said and smiled at his brother over the rim of his cup.  
“Yeah, the girls love him to bits.” Ty chuckled as he watched his daughters attack their older cousin as if he was a mortal enemy to bring down. A tickle battle ensued.  
“That feeling is entirely mutual,” Anders replied with a grin and took a sip of coffee.´

The two brothers watched their respective offspring for a while in amused silence. The battle had just calmed somewhat when the doorbell rang, and with the arrival of Axl and Hanna and the twins the chaos was perfect.

“Nice to see you, bro!” Anders said and had to raise his voice.  
“Same! I see the kids are getting comfortable!”

Russell was now completely buried under three girls and the twin boys. 

“Oy!” Ty yelled. “Can you keep that down a little!”  
Russell poked his head out of the pile of what looked like aggressive hamsters. “Sorry!”

The noise didn’t change in the slightest, however. 

But as Ty was about to yell again and for real this time, Dawn entered the warzone after having finished setting the table.

“CAKES!” She yelled at the top of her lungs and immediately, the knot of limbs unravelled itself and five kids shot towards the table, leaving a seventeen year old behind who looked as if he had been dragged backward through a heap of brambles.

“See?” Russell got up and ran his fingers through his hair to bring it back into some sort of order. “If I had put on a nice shirt it’d be completely ruined now.”  
“You’re wise for your age,” Anders gave back. “You even have the second sight.”  
“Ha ha.” Russell shook his head and proceeded to do a ponytail. “I’ll leave the fine shirts and suits to you.”  
“Someone in the family has to look presentable after all.”

They gave each other a pointed look, but just as Mike was about to step in to moderate, both Russell and Anders started chuckling.

As usual, the cakes were nothing short of amazing and as usual, the kids had to be stopped at one point before they made themselves sick. The whole gaggle of kids then left the table and thundered up the stairs.

“Hey!” Ty got up. “What about the presents?”

The whole gaggle of kids came thundering down the stairs again. 

“How is it possible that five kids make more noise than a horde of elephants?” Anders asked.  
Ty shrugged. “I’ve given up asking myself that years ago.”

As with everything so far, the unwrapping of the presents wasn’t a calm affair and turned into a feeding frenzy that had gift paper and ribbons flying. Ruby’s squeals of delight were equally heart-warming and ear-battering. 

The package Russell had given her contained a small wooden box; a musical box as it turned out, with a fairy on a horse spinning in circles to the tune of _Somewhere over the Rainbow_. Ruby’s eyes were wide as saucers. By sheer luck she had opened Russell’s present last so it happened to be the one she looked at longest as there were no other things to unwrap. 

“I hope no one saw you buy that,” Anders muttered under his breath, but with a wink.  
Russell chuckled. “The sales assistant stopped giving me funny looks when I told her to wrap it in pink paper,” he whispered back. 

Ruby put the box down with wide and shiny eyes, then she came running towards the table to throw herself at Russell. She buried her nose in the T-shirt, her pink hairclips contrasting nicely with the Metallica logo.

“Thank you, Russ,” she said as she closed her arms around his midriff. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!”  
“I’m glad you like it,” Russell replied, his eyes softening with his smile. “I couldn’t decide between the fairy and the...”  
“Keep your hands off that!” Ruby screeched and Russell winced, inconspicuously rubbing his ear as Ruby stormed towards the sofa and the musical box that her youngest sister Chloe was just about to touch with a cautious forefinger.

“I think I just lost about five percent of my hearing in the left ear,” Russell said.   
“Ruby, you can say that in a normal voice instead of screaming at her like that,” Dawn scolded her.  
“But it’s my birthday!”  
“It is, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to behave yourself!”  
“Aw Moom! She was breaking it!”  
“She didn’t even touch it yet!”

Ruby huffed and reverently picked up the musical box that she carried up the stairs and into her room. 

“So,” Anders said as he poured himself another coffee. “How’s the attic looking?”  
“Better.” Dawn took a sip of her tea. “We finally finished mucking everything out...” Then she faltered and exchanged a look with Ty.  
“Did you find a body?” Anders joked.   
“No,” Dawn replied, and her facial expression made whatever joke Anders was about to make die in his throat.

“We will discuss this after dinner when that lot is in bed,” Dawn said firmly and jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the group of children that were now playing with one of Ruby’s presents, under her scrutinizing eyes.

* * *

After dinner, when the excitement about the sleepover had abated and the arguments of who was to sleep in which room had been settled, the house was suddenly very quiet after the children had more or less passed out.

Dawn and Ty then served the nibbles and put more wine and beer onto the table.

“So what we found,” Ty began somewhat hesitantly. “Is an old shipping crate.” He looked at Anders.  
“Shipping crate?” Anders tilted his head with a frown.  
“The one with Russell’s things,” Dawn added. “Remember?”  
“Oh!” Anders smiled crookedly. “I never realised you still had it.”  
“Well, even we forgot about it. But yesterday we unearthed it from under the old dining room furniture.”

Russell leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. “And what was inside?”  
“Mostly, the old clothes we never took out,” Dawn said. “But then we found a box under all the things of which I have no idea why someone would bother to pack them.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway.”

Ty got up now and opened a drawer in the sideboard and produced a cardboard box about the size of a shoebox but much flatter. He put that onto the table in front of Russell.

“We haven’t looked inside,” Dawn said slowly.  
“We didn’t know if it would be something private,” Ty added.

Everyone looked at the box and the writing on the lid.

**Russell, 18 years**

“You’ve got a few months to go yet,” Anders said thoughtfully. “But I think you can open it anyway.”  
Russell looked up, and suddenly, he looked very young again.  
Anders rested a hand on Russell’s forearm. “You want me to open that?” He asked gently.

Russell nodded silently, the insecurity and fear in his eyes a stark and sudden reminder of the five-year old he had been when that box had been packed, together with his belongings from another life.

Anders took the box and lifted off the lid. There were a lot of photographs, printouts from what looked like the pictures someone had taken with their phone. Baby pictures, toddler pictures, selfies of April and Kevin with a tiny little Russell. But going through the pictures, one thing was impossible to miss: The older Russell got the less he smiled, and the same went for his mother whenever she happened to be in the picture. 

All in all, the pictures were more or less similar to the ones in the photo album Russell already had, but from the way it looked, they had been taken with April’s phone. But even if someone had transferred all those pictures to a computer with printer access, the quality was quite low; those weren’t printed photos, just coloured prints on standard ink jet paper.

“If there are any you want to keep I can scan them,” Anders said as he placed the stack of sheets in front of his son. “These will fade pretty quickly.”

Russell nodded and leafed through the pictures, and at last he pulled one out that showed April and Kevin and Russell between them, holding on to one of their hands each. It was taken at a beach on a sunny day, and all three of them were smiling while they squeezed together to fit into the picture.

“You want that one?” Anders asked.  
Russell stared at the picture. “Part of me wants to,” he said in a small voice. “But it’s not real, is it?” He looked up and at his father and shrugged. “It wasn’t real. That’s not how it was. Part of me wants it to be real... but if it was, I wouldn’t be here today, would I?”  
“No.” Anders’s voice was low. “No, you wouldn’t.”  
Russell shoved the whole stack of pictures away from him. “I don’t want them. I’ve got the photo album at home. I don’t want these. I don’t need them.”

Anders nodded and took the stack of paper, then put it down again on the other side of the box, face down. The next thing in the box was a stack of paperwork. Anders leafed through these papers, the frown on his face deepening. 

“What is it?” Mike asked.  
“Hospital notes,” Anders said and shook his head. “Her diagnosis, and all that stuff. Why on earth would he have packed those?”  
“Maybe he just wanted Russell to have as much of his mother as he could?”  
Anders looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Or maybe he wanted to get rid of every reminder of her?”  
“But didn’t you mention him saying he had lost the love of his life?”  
“I did.” Anders shrugged. “We’ll never know.”

There was another print, a picture of April in a hospital bed, her face gaunt and her hair already gone. Russell was sitting on her lap and looked as if he would rather be anywhere else.

_Last picture of you and Mum_ , someone had written on the top of the sheet. 

Russell shook his head and thrust the paper back at Anders as the latter was about to give it to his son. 

“No. It’s the last memory I have of her. I don’t want it. I don’t.... I don’t want it.”

Anders nodded again and put the print onto the stack beside him. 

Under the last papers were a few odd keepsakes. A pair of baby shoes. A tiny little wristband with Russell’s name on. An old, used pacifier. And some newspaper clippings. 

“April’s death notice and obituary,” Anders said, shaking his head. “Russ, I don’t assume you want those?”  
This time Russell shook his head so vehemently that a few his curls escaped the ponytail and flew around his face.   
Anders put the clippings onto the growing stack of paper to be thrown out.

At the very bottom of the box he then found a sealed envelope. There was Russell’s name on the front, and on the back stood: _From Mum_.

Anders held out the envelope, and Russell took it with trembling hands. He stared at it for a long while.

“I want to read it at home,” he said softly.  
“Sure.” Anders held out his hand again. “Want me to hold on to it?”  
Russell handed him the envelope back, and Anders slipped into the inner pocket of his jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair.


	4. Chapter 4

The plan had been to take a taxi home at one point and for Ty to give Anders a lift the next day to pick up the car again, depending on how long they would have stayed and the alcohol consumption involved.

As it was, Anders stopped drinking after his glass of wine and called it an early night. Russell hadn't said another word after the box had been closed again, and now he carried it in front of him as if it was a holy relic that could explode into his face any moment. He had refused any farewell hugs and had spent the time in the car in dead silence. Anders had to admit he was worried, but he couldn't really blame him.

Anders watched his son kick off his shoes and for once, didn't lose a word about it. He simply handed Russell the letter after he had deposited the box on the kitchen counter, and Russell disappeared upstairs without a word.

Anders headed for the kitchen, opened the fridge and poured himself a shot of vodka that he took along into the living room. He sat down, stared at the television and decided against it after a moment. He took a sip of his drink, leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes.

* * *

_“Dad, can you put on my shoes?”_  
_“I don’t think so. I doubt they’ll fit me.”_  
_“Oh man Daaad... But I can’t tie my shoelaces!”_

_Anders shook his head with a sigh but hung his jacket he had been about to put on over the back of a chair. He walked over to Russell who looked up at him with a very unhappy expression._

_“Sorry, Dad.” He shrugged. “The laces are too short...”_

_Anders knelt down and after one look had to admit that yes, the laces were really short. That's what he got for buying fancy shoes for a ten year old. He tied them with a little difficulty himself and got up again._

_“All set,” he said. “And you're right. They're awfully short.”_  
_Russell sighed in relief. “Really, Dad, I'm not too stupid to tie my shoes.”_  
_“Did I say that?” Anders met his son's eyes._  
_Russell shrugged and then shook his head._  
_“See.” Anders smiled and adjusted Russell's collar._

_The shirt didn't have the best fit, but Anders would be damned if he spent a load of money on a shirt even if it was for a wedding; there would be cake and candy and soda and what else, and instead of using nerves and energy trying to get the stains out of a white shirt he had bought one that could be thrown out without it being a major loss, if one wash wouldn't be enough._

_Anders tugged the waistcoat into place again and then realised that the first strands of hair had already escaped the ponytail. The Bag was hanging next to the door and he dug into it for the hairbrush, but then decided against it. He could sort out Russell's hair again once they were at the church._

_Anders grabbed his jacket and put it on, and with a last glance into the mirror in the hallway, adjusted his tie, took the bag and opened the door. Russell followed and wiggled in the car seat after he had fastened his seatbelt._

_After locking the car Anders produced the hairbrush, removed Russell's hair elastic and brushed the hair pack into an orderly ponytail. It wasn't that the hair was too short to stay in place, Russell's hair just had some sort of kinship with that of Medusa and usually went its own way no matter what Anders tried. He didn't even allow himself the hope that his hair might make it through the service._

_As soon as Russell spotted his auntie and his three year old cousin Ruby, the boy ran over to coo at the toddler and made faces to make her laugh. Dawn ran a hand over his head with an affectionate smile and set Ruby down who looked like a piece of candy in her lilac dress._

_Axl was already there, waiting at the bottom of the steps leading up into the church, and Ty and Mike were standing next to him, with Ty resting one hand on his younger brother's shoulder. Axl was a little pale around the nose._

_No one quite knew how it had happened. Axl and Hanna had each went their own way after the Gahr and hadn't seen each other for years, only to meet again at a birthday party of someone who turned out to be a mutual friend. And the two, who had more or less been forced to marry to save the world – and sure as hell hadn't missed each other during the years afterwards – suddenly found themselves talk and share stories and drink together, and all that had led to this day: Axl waiting at the steps of the church for his bride to tie the knot. Again, so to speak._

_And they had insisted on the whole classic thing, church, minister and all. Probably just to spite the gods who had meddled so much with their lives in the past. And so, following the traditions almost down to the letter, Axl and his groomsmen entered the church first, with Russell nervously glued to Anders's leg. Mike wasn't with them, however, he was giving the bride away since Hanna had neither father nor brother any more._

_Since Anders had been Best Man at Ty's wedding now it was Ty's turn to be Best Man, and he and Anders flanked their younger brother after they had positioned themselves next to the altar._

_Anders had to admit that the whole ceremony had a certain flair. There were the bridesmaids with Hanna's closest friend the maid of honour, and little Ruby walking in front of her clutching the little basket with petals that she threw like a soldier tossing hand grenades._

_Hanna herself looked stunning in the white satin dress that had a train of at least two meters length, and with her hair set up so elaborately that it must have taken hours to do it. Axl was almost breathless when she had reached him._

_Anders listened to their oaths with half an ear, keeping an eye on Russell who was clutching the pillow with the rings so hard that his fingertips where almost white. And when it was finally time, he gave Russ a gentle nudge between the shoulder blades and the boy took a deep breath and took a few steps forward towards the bridal couple smiling down at him. Anders suppressed an exasperated sigh; despite just standing there almost motionless, a strand of Russell’s hair had already escaped and was now teetering around in front of his face._

_But he stood there with a solemn expression, pillow extended, and afterwards, as he had stepped back between Ty and Anders again, Anders gave him a nod and a proud smile. Russell's eyes lit up and he fidgeted a little while biting his lip_.

_Upon leaving the church the bridal couple was showered with rice and rose petals, and after having spent the rest of the celebration with several other kids that had come with Hanna's extended family and friends, Russell predictably fell asleep in the car on their way home, hair mussed and sticking in moist strands to his face. The kids had been running around and playing and eating cake and candy and drinking soda until only the huge amount of sugar in their system had kept them going._

_Anders carried him inside, no easy feat by now, and helped him out of his clothes and into his pyjamas._

_After all that soda and candy Anders insisted on brushing Russell's teeth himself with the electric toothbrush. Russell was to beat to protest._

_Anders sat down next to the bed with the book, but he had just opened it and leafed through the pages to find the one where they had stopped the day before when he noticed that Russell had already fallen asleep again. With a smile, Anders put the bookmark into place and silently left the room._

* * *

_For the first time in quite a while, Anders had a quiet Saturday morning with coffee and the newspaper, as Russell was first back amongst the living around ten o'clock._

_Anders fed him cornflakes and was tempted to offer him a coffee as well. He wondered if anyone could have a hangover from too much soda, because if there was such a thing, Russell would be the perfect exhibit A._

_Having parked him in front of the TV Anders did some laundry after cleaning the kitchen and eventually, joined Russell in the living room with a coffee. The boy was watching cartoons with little to no enthusiasm._

_“You okay, Russ?”_  
_Russell's frown deepened. “Dad?”_  
_“Yes?”_  
_Russell adjusted his position so he could look at his father. “Why did Uncle Axl and Hanna get married?”_

_Anders emitted a somewhat brainless huffing sound. “Because they love each other?” He offered eventually. “They want to be together for the rest of their lives and... well... this is what you can do in that case.”_  
_“Will they have babies?”_  
_“I wouldn't know, but I guess so.”_  
_“Hm.” Russell was pondering something very deeply. “Auntie Dawn and Uncle Ty are married, too, right?”_  
_“Right.”_  
_“And they have Ruby.”_  
_“That, too.”_  
_Russell scratched his chin. “So when Axl and Hanna are married they are going to have a baby too.” It sounded more like a statement than a question._

_Anders watched his son over the rim of his coffee cup. He was still trying to figure something out._

_“Dad?”_  
_“Yes?”_  
_“Why didn't you marry Carol?”_

_Anders cleared his throat and put the cup down, wondering if and how he could explain to his ten year old son the difference between what Axl and Hanna had and what had been between him and Carol. It hadn't even lasted half a year._

_“You see,” he began and cleared his throat. “Axl and Hanna really, really love each other. There's no doubt that they belong together.”_  
_“And you and Carol don't?”_  
_“No,” Anders said after a deep breath. “We did love each other but... but it wasn't enough to get married, you know?_  
_Russell still didn't seem to be satisfied. “But Uncle Mike and Auntie Michelle aren't married.”_  
_“No. They belong together, but they chose not to marry. You don't have to marry, you know.”_

_Russell leaned back into the sofa and crossed his arms. Anders took another sip of coffee, believing the problem to be solved. But then Russell leaned forward again and folded his legs under him to look at him._

_“But you and Mum had a baby and you weren't married. Why didn't you marry Mum?”_

_That caught Anders unawares and he swallowed too much coffee in one go. He cleared his throat and put the cup down again. Staring into empty air, he tried to find an explanation that the boy could understand._

_“Your mother...” Anders finally said. “Your mother and I, we didn't... Christ, how do I explain that?” He rubbed a hand across his chin. “We... we didn't love each other at all, you know? We liked each other a lot, but after... well... after two weeks we realised it wasn't love, you know? Because sometimes, you know at once, when you meet someone, that you love them, but most times, you need to get to know each other to find out if it's love or not. And with me and your mother... well, we quickly found out it wasn't.”_

_Russell's frown deepened again and he looked at Anders with deeply unhappy eyes. “But you had a baby. You didn't marry. And you never came to visit. Like Emma's dad.”_

_“Russ...” Anders heaved a heavy sigh. He had been dreading this moment for years now, and even after spending hours on end thinking about it, he still was none the wiser about how and if he could make Russell understand. “Russell... I didn't know you existed. Your mother never told me, after she left for Wellington, that she was pregnant with you. She never told me, and I never knew about you before she wrote me the letter in which she asked me to take care of you.”_

_Russell stared at him, and with a sting of pain in his heart Anders could see some of that desolation in Russell's eyes that he had seen in them on that first day in Wellington, five years ago._

_“Russell...” Anders reached out and took the boy's hands. “Russell, I didn't know. And I don't know why your mother never told me. Maybe she thought I wouldn't care.”_  
_“But what if?”_  
_“If she had told me?” A tough one. But considering how he had reacted upon seeing Russell the first time in person, maybe he would have cared. Not in the warm-hearted Dad-way. But in a way, he would have cared. “I would. I would have cared about you.”_

_Russell looked down at their joined hands._

_“And...” Russell's voice was very small, almost fearful. But whatever it was that was on his mind, he seemed to be unable to put it into words._

_Maybe it was simply the question if Anders would have cared if he had known him. Cared about his well-being. Cared enough to do something when both his mother and stepfather had begun to neglect him, to abandon him._

_That, at least, was a question Anders could answer. He would have. Even if he would have been forced to associate with the boy, and maybe only twice a year, he still would have seen and recognised the signs, just has he had seen them in Wellington. Maybe, no, most definitely he wouldn't have taken the boy with him to Auckland, but he would have done something; contacted CA, and talked with his mother._

_“Russell.” He ran his thumbs over the back of Russell's hands. “If I had known you, I would have cared. I wouldn't have let anything happen to you.”_  
_The boy looked up again at that. His face was so distorted in pain that Anders feared he would go to pieces any moment._  
_“Russ...” He took a deep breath. “You're my son. I wouldn’t for the life of me have wanted for something to have happened. I am so sorry I didn't know. But I couldn't help it. But see...” He increased the pressure of his fingers. “I care. You're here now, with me. Aren't you?”_

_Russell swallowed hard, but after a moment, he nodded._

_“See.” Anders tried to smile. “I know it... it hurts. To think I was here, not knowing about you. I can't change it, I can't change the past. But... you're here now. With me. With your uncles and aunties and cousin Ruby. We can't change the past. I can't go back and make it better. I can only try and make it better here and now. I'm your dad, Russ. And I want you to be okay.”_

_“I'm okay,” Russell whispered after a moment._  
_“Really?” Anders tried to smile again, this time with success. “You're okay?”_  
_Russell swallowed and chewed his lower lip for a moment, then he looked up and suddenly, the light returned to his eyes. “Yeah. I'm okay. 'cause you're the best dad ever.”_

_Anders pulled him close into a fierce hug that Russell returned._

* * *

Anders took a sip of vodka, or rather, he meant to, only to discover that his glass was empty. But even as he pondered if he should get another one he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

A strange feeling of unease settled into his belly as Russell entered the living room and sat down beside him. His face was pale, his eyes swollen and red, and he didn’t look at his father.  
Anders suppressed urge to ask if he was okay, because it was clear as rain that he wasn't.

“Russ?” Cautiously resting a hand on his son's shoulder, Anders leaned forward. “Anything I can do?”

Russell looked down at his hands and shook his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Looking at his son, and seeing the pain in his eyes, Anders wished that Russell was still just a boy and that whatever troubled him, he would be able to deal with it. He could hug him, tell him everything would be all right, and eventually, it would be true.

But whatever haunted Russell now was nothing that he could make better. Of course he couldn't and shouldn't solve Russell's problems for the rest of his life, but that didn't stop him from wishing he could.

“Russ...” And then he didn't know how to proceed. 

Russell lowered his eyes and clamped his hands between his knees. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Anders asked again. 

After a long moment, Russell looked up again. His voice was scratchy. "What did she tell you?"  
“What do you mean?”  
“The letter.” Russell tried to calm his breathing, with meagre success. "What did she tell you?"  
“About you?”  
“About everything. Me. Her. What happened.” Russell narrowed his eyes. "What did she tell you?"

Anders took a deep breath. “She told me...” he moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue. “She told me that she was dying of cancer. She asked me to take care of you. And she also told me that... that she had troubles bonding with you and...”  
“That she didn't love me,” Russell cut in sharply. “And you didn't want to have anything to do with me.”  
“...what?”

“That's what she wrote.” Russell ground his teeth together. “That you couldn't be bothered. That she had begged you to take care of me, and you never replied. That I was a burden and a nuisance to you.”  
Anders was left speechless. He no idea what to say to save the situation that he felt was slipping from his hands. “Russell...”  
“She didn't love me, and you didn't want me.”  
“But Russ... you're here with me now and I...”  
“That they would have to force you to take legal guardianship because you...”  
“Russell, stop.”

Anders shook his head and rested a hand on Russell's shoulder, but he shook it off.

“No, Russell, listen to me. I never got that letter before I got to Wellington. The letter should have been in the paperwork. But it wasn't. It wasn't my fault.”  
“Sure.” Russell's eyes were empty and his mouth a tight line. “Nothing was your fault, right? She said you were a selfish prick who cared for no one but himself and maybe his brothers.”  
“What?” Anders forced his hands to uncurl again. “Yeah, right, of course I was. But you're here with me now, and why do you think that's the case? I didn't look at you and immediately started thinking of a way to get rid of you, or we wouldn't be here having this conversation. Don't tell me you're just ignoring everything in favour of a twelve year old letter?”

There was a long, heavy silence.

“I don't know,” Russell finally gave back tonelessly and got up. “I don't know anything anymore.”  
“Russ...” Anders got up as well. “Russell, please...”  
“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

Anders watched him head up the stairs, and winced as the door to Russell's room slammed shut. 

“Fuck.” He fell back into the sofa. Going after him and trying to force him into continuing the conversation would only make it worse now. “What the fuck have you done, April?”

No one answered him. 

Anders poured himself another shot of vodka and leaned against the kitchen counter while he thoughtfully sipped it. Whatever April had written in that letter, it had wounded Russell deeply. And suddenly, Russell was back in his tortoise shell and Anders had no idea how he could help his son out of it again. 

It wasn't healthy behaviour, but Anders had always dealt with any emotional crisis in a very similar way: By retreating behind mental barriers. His had been studded with venomous thorns. Russell's shell was simply too thick to penetrate, making it impossible to get through to him.

So this was it. The only thing Anders could do was wait.

* * *

Anders was just getting breakfast ready the next morning when Russell came almost running down the stairs with his backpack. He hurried towards the door without a single glance towards kitchen or dining area, and before Anders could say anything, he had slipped into his trainers and was out of the door.

Heaving a heavy and unhappy sigh, Anders sat down again and stared at his toast, suddenly not hungry anymore. If the week started this way, it could only get worse from here. 

Anders went to work with a knot in his stomach, and even as he talked with Dawn about what happened, they both had no idea what anyone could do. 

Russell was already home when Anders entered the house again that afternoon, but he only knew this because of the fact his shoes were standing next to the door.

The knot in Anders’s stomach was back, and he set to making dinner with his mind all over the place. And sure enough, something happened that rarely did: He cut himself while chopping the onions. Cursing silently while hastily wrapping kitchen towel around the finger, Anders went hunting for the band aids.

He didn’t really expect Russell to come down when he called for dinner, so he headed up the stairs and knocked at the door to his room.

“Russ? Dinner’s ready!”  
There was no reply.  
“Russell!” He knocked again, harder this time. “Oy!”  
Still, no reply.

After another sigh, Anders cautiously opened the door a crack and now could hear the faint traces of music that he recognised as coming from someone’s headphones. He stuck his arm through the crack and waved it up and down. 

“What? Jesus Christ, Dad!” Russell tore the phones off and stomped towards the door. “And you keep telling me off when I forget to knock!”  
“I did knock,” Anders gave back, ignoring Russell’s death stare. “Several times. I also yelled. It’s kind of difficult to get in touch with you when you have these things on and are blasting your eardrums to hell.”  
Russell huffed. “Yeah, whatever.”  
“Dinner’s ready.”  
“I’m not hungry.”

Anders lifted his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

“Seriously, Dad, I had a kebab after school.”  
“Yes, because you skipped breakfast.”  
“I wasn’t hungry!”  
“We’re having lamb casserole.” Russell’s favourite. It was a desperate attempt, and one he knew was most likely in vain.  
“I said I’m not hungry,” Russell snapped back.

They stared at each other in silence for a while. Russell looked as if he was ready to murder his own father and finally, Anders gave in, for the moment.

“Right, suit yourself. You know how a microwave works.”

Russell huffed again and, rather forcefully, closed the door again.

Anders had his dinner in silence and alone, and he ate without much enjoyment. There was still light shining under Russell’s door when he went to bed, and the next morning, Russ was already gone when Anders got up.

This was getting out of hand. He needed to get Russell to talk to him. Tonight. No excuses.

* * *

Russell came home well after dinnertime that night but Anders managed to intercept him before he could vanish up the stairs.

“Russell, hold it right there. We need to talk.”  
Russell glared at him, his mouth almost drawn into a sneer. “I don’t need anything. I don’t want to talk about anything, especially not you!”  
“This is going too far, Russ!” Anders closed his hand around Russell’s upper arm. “And you have to...”  
“Nothing!” Russell yelled back and tore himself out of his father’s grip. “I don’t have to do anything!”  
“Stop shouting at me, Russ.”  
“Then stop bothering me!”

Anders took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. “Russell, that is not open to discussion. You and I, we are going to talk about that goddamn letter now.”  
“That fucking letter is none of your fucking business!” Russell screamed and pushed Anders away. He dashed up the stairs faster than Anders could retaliate.

With a muffled curse, Anders followed, only to discover that Russell had locked the door to his room. He banged on the door.

“Go away!”  
“You will not weasel out of this, young man, and you will stop talking to me like that,” Anders said sharply. “And you will come home after school tomorrow or I swear I come and pick you up at the gates again for the next four weeks like a first termer!”

There was no reply to that. Anders shook his head, rolled his shoulders and went back downstairs. He tried not to be angry, kept telling himself that Russell was acting like a wounded animal, all snarls and claws and teeth. He wasn’t really successful, though.

* * *

Russell didn’t react to Anders knocking on his door the next morning, and thus he was almost too late when he came running down the stairs. Naturally, that left no time for breakfast, and Anders suspected that it was fully intentional. 

By now Anders’s nerves were more than a little strained. He couldn’t focus on anything and Dawn, compassion in her eyes, send him home after his lunch break. 

Back at home, Anders kept staring at the clock, wondering if he would really have to go and humiliate his son, but Russell knew he didn’t make empty threats. And to Anders’s relief, at four, he heard a key being turned in the lock. Russell slunk in through the door and was on his way towards the stairs again. 

Anders got up. “Over here,” he said firmly and empathised his words with a wave of his hand. 

His face a thunderstorm, Russell walked into the dining area, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Up close, Anders could see that Russell didn’t seem to have taken a shower since Sunday morning as he was still wearing the same clothes he had put on after that shower, too.

“Russ.” Anders forced his voice to remain calm. “I can see that whatever was in that letter hurt you. I don’t even know if I can help, but there is no reason to treat me like that and to talk to me that way.”  
Russell didn’t reply. He just stared at his father with his mouth a thin line.  
“Russell...” After clearing his throat, Anders realised that he was fighting a losing battle. There seemed to be no way to breach those walls. “Whatever was in that letter...”  
“Is none of your fucking business!” 

Anders snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat. “Stop using that kind of language on me, young man.”  
“I am not your young man!” Russell snapped back furiously.  
“No, you’re not, because right now you’re acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and all because of a single letter!”  
“I said the fucking letter is none of your fucking business! Do you hear me? It’s none of your fucking business! None of this is any of your fucking business! And you would never understand it anyway!”  
“Understand what?” Anders walked around the kitchen counter. “That you had a mother who didn’t love you? Really? What is it about a mother who doesn’t love her son that I don’t understand? My mother never cared about me either, and she watched as well when my father beat me black and blue! She walked out on my when I was twelve and she wasn’t even dying!”

“Stop giving me a fucking guilt trip!” Russell screamed.   
“Guilt trip? I’m not giving you a guilt trip, I am telling you a truth that you don’t want to hear!”

Anders took the piggy bank from the windowsill and put it onto the kitchen counter, but shoved it aside so it wasn’t standing right between them. It had stood there, in the corner of the kitchen counter next to the salt and pepper grinder for two years, when Russell had hit puberty and after having grown two hairs on his balls was suddenly Clint Eastwood. Russell refused to get the hint, though. 

“You’re not the only one with a problematic childhood, Russ.”  
“Problematic childhood my ass!” Russell slammed his hands onto the counter. “You have no fucking idea!”  
“If you don’t stop using that sort of language then it’s going to be really expensive and apart from that I will...”  
“As if I give a shit!” Russell’s voice almost broke on that high pitched scream. “I don’t give a shit about that fucking stupid pig either you stupid asshole!”

And with that, he lashed out with one arm and threw the piggybank off the counter. It shattered with a crash. 

Anders stared dumbfounded at the shards and the heap of dollar coins for a moment, his mouth hanging open, and Russell took his chance and made a break for it. Anders heard his door slam shut, and finally, closed his mouth. 

He slowly went down into a crouch.

Twelve years.

The piggybank had stood on the windowsill for twelve years now. Anders clearly remembered the day, not long after Russell had left the hospital after the accident, when he had taken the boy’s hand and they had made a tour through a thrift shop, and he remembered Russell’s happy grin as he had carried the silly little piggybank home. He remembered Russell’s embarrassed expressions and his writhing every time Anders had told him to pay up, and his glee when it had been Anders’s turn. 

Twelve years.

Anders wasn’t usually prone to sentimentality. Especially not regarding things, but somehow, the loss of the piggybank hurt him. Maybe because it had been a last reminder of Russell’s childish innocence. 

With a sigh he got up again, found a zip loc bag and collected the dollar coins, and then got brush and dustpan and swept up the shards. He pressed his lips together tightly as he dumped them into the bin.

It was then that anger started to replace compassion. Russell had absolutely no reason to talk to him like that, hurt feelings or no. There was no reason whatsoever to go and destroy things like that. 

Anders resisted the urge to pour himself a vodka and made coffee instead.

* * *

Russell came back downstairs again a few hours later, his hands in his pockets and his hair falling around his face in strands that were beginning to look greasy. He didn’t look furious anymore, but he gave Anders a distrustful stare. Anders, in turn, got up from the dining table and gathered up his laptop and phone.

“What’s for dinner?” Russell asked meekly.  
“Whatever you can cobble together,” Anders gave back curtly. “I’ve already eaten, I won’t share the table with someone who uses that kind of language on me.” 

He walked past Russell without looking at him, but at the bottom of the stairs, he turned around again. 

“Oh, and I changed the WiFi password. You get that after I get a proper apology.” With that, Anders headed upstairs and into his home office. A proper apology would have to include Russell approaching him and not the other way round. But of course, there was no knock on the door.

He stared at his laptop for a while and in the end, spent a few hours doing nothing productive. When he went to bed, there was still light under Russell’s door.

Anders slept very poorly that night.


	6. Chapter 6

Anders was up early after a night spent mostly tossing in his bed, but even as it got close to the time Russell should be leaving, the door to his room remained close. Anders looked up the stairs and listened, but after a moment he shrugged and picked up his phone.

Somewhat later, Russell came running down the stairs and threw his backpack down next to his trainers. He grabbed the first one and started cursing under his breath as he struggled with the laces that he never bothered to undo before kicking his shoes off.

He was still wearing the same clothes and by the way they looked, he even seemed to have slept in them. Anders wrinkled his nose when he reached him and he pointedly cleared his throat.

Russell froze, eyes wide in panic as he looked up at his father.  
“Russell.”  
“I’m running late, Dad...” Russell swallowed hard.  
“I already called school and told them you’re sick.”

Russell slowly straightened up again, the pale face a stark contrast to the red-rimmed eyes.

“And now you go upstairs again and have a shower because you stink. And then we will talk.”

Russell took a few deep breaths, but somehow, his resistance was suddenly shattered. He dropped his head and hunched his shoulders, then dragged himself up the stairs.

Looking at him, Anders briefly wondered if he should go and take the key to Russell’s room, but decided against it. Breaching his privacy like that would be his very last resort, and if Russell should really lock himself in again, then he could take the key the first time he had to use the bathroom. He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to. 

During the half hour Russell was in the shower Anders had several coffees and was just in the kitchen refilling the coffee beans and water in the coffee maker when he heard heavy steps coming down the stairs. He looked up when Russell rounded the corner, now wearing sweatpants and a clean T-shirt, and with his hair curling in moist ringlets around his face.

He looked so tired. And not the kind of tired a seventeen year old would look after several nights of partying or gaming. It was the look of someone who had been unable to sleep, kept awake by heavy thoughts and nightmares. Anders maintained a carefully neutral face as he watched him, taking in the pale face, and the deep shadows under the red-rimmed eyes. 

It was then that he realised that Russell wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at the windowsill. At the empty spot on the windowsill next to the glass bottle with pebbles.

Anders put the lid back down without taking his eyes off his son. And Russell just kept staring at the windowsill, blinking rapidly.

Wiping his hands on his trousers Anders stepped back, and he rounded the kitchen counter as Russell’s shoulders started shaking. He had reached him as Russell closed his eyes and with the first hoarse sob, Anders had his arms around his son who fell against him and buried his face into his father’s right shoulder before bursting into tears. Anders tightened his hold and closed his eyes as well.

“I’m sorry, Dad...” Russell finally choked out between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”  
Anders didn’t reply, he just held on tighter.  
“I’m so sorry...” Russell almost choked on his sobs and the words he pressed out between them. “God... Dad, I’m so sorry...”

Moving his right arm lower, Anders lifted the left one and rested his hand on the back of Russell’s head, the fingers burying into the still moist hair. Russell’s arms were hanging limply down while his whole body was shaken by violent sobs. 

It felt like forever when in fact, it had been about twenty minutes – a span Anders was able to determine because he was able to look at the oven and the clock – before Russell began to calm down again. He let go of his son and draped one arm around Russell’s shoulder to steer him towards the living room. After depositing him there on a sofa Anders draped a fleece plaid around his shoulders before he headed for the kitchen again. He made two cups of coffee, one with a dash of milk and a heap of sugar and equipped with these, sat down next to Russell who was staring at nothing while clutching the blanket between his fingers.

Anders put his cup down onto the table and pried Russell’s hand apart to press the other cup between them. He held his son’s hands together until Russell finally closed his fingers around the cup. But only after Russell had taken the first sip did Anders pick up his own coffee to take a sip as well. He still didn’t say a word and waited for Russell to be able to finally open up.

Eventually, Russell closed his eyes after swallowing a sip of coffee. 

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered hoarsely.   
“I know, and you’re forgiven,” Anders replied. “And now I don’t want to hear anymore about it,” he added gently.  
Russell took a deep breath. “I don’t know...” He wiped a hand across his eyes. “I just don’t know why...”  
“That’s not really important. Not anymore.”  
His eyes still red and brimming with tears, Russell looked up at his father. “But... Dad...”  
Anders shook his head. “We get this sorted, Russ. You just need to talk to me about it.”

Russell looked at his hands again. And then, with a sigh, he put his cup down and, after another moment’s hesitation, dug a hand into his pocket and produced two sheets of paper that looked as if they had been repeatedly wadded into a ball. He handed those to Anders with a trembling hand. 

Anders took them cautiously, looking at his son who refused to meet his eyes now. Taking a deep breath, Anders unfolded the letter and smoothed it out on his thigh while Russell lowered himself down and curled up like a cat beside him. 

And to Anders’ somewhat uncomfortable surprise, he bedded his head on Anders’s other thigh. 

“Aren’t you a bit old for that, Russ?”  
Russell closed his eyes. “Please? Just this once, Dad?”  
Anders shook his head with a wistful smile. “If acting as if you’re a six year old with a flu helps you cope with this... then I won’t say you no. I guess.”  
A sigh was his only answer. 

Absentmindedly resting one hand on Russell’s head, Anders lowered his eyes and looked at the writing on the slightly crumpled paper. The letters were even more uneven and the lines more wobbly than in the letter that had been addressed to him, and there were, clearly visible, round blurry spots left by falling tears, the letters all but smudged out. Anders strongly doubted that they were Russell’s. The date in the left upper corner was the day before April’s death.

_Dear Russell,_

_I am sorry to have to write you this. I wish I could be there, watching you grow up, but I can’t. I am writing this so you may understand, now that you’re a young man and no little boy anymore._

_You know, I guess, or I hope, how and why I died. God, it hurts, writing that. But I am dying. When you read this, I will be dead for thirteen years now. Cold and buried. I am sorry you have to grow up without a mum. But in case no one told you: I have brain cancer. It came so suddenly I barely had time to adjust. I got the diagnosis because of headaches that didn’t go away, and six months later, I am dying. I can barely see these letters. I said goodbye to you this afternoon, and I somehow doubt I will see you again. I won’t see another sunrise. I am so so y you had to see your mother waste away and die._

_But I was never much of a mo r, was I? I don’t know how much you remember, but I remember it far too well for my own good.  
I was never a go other. Post-partum depression, the midwives and nurses called it. It meant I wasn’t a happy mum after I had given birth to you. I couldn’t love you. I so wanted to. _

_I wanted a baby, and I wanted it so much that I used a man I hardly knew to be your father. That’s why I never told him. I didn’t want him to be angry. I wanted you, Russell. I was so happy when I found out I was pregnant. You were wanted. But then I couldn’t love you. Couldn’t be happy with you. About you. And that hurts me so much. I was looking forward to be a mum. And I wasn’t a mum at all. I know you weren’t a happy child. And I coul t do a thing about it._

_I can only apologize now, for leaving you alone like that. Not because of the cancer. Because I let you down. Because I couldn’t love you the way you deserved. You were always only a burden. I am so sorry. And your father, he is a stranger because I never told him. And now, I realise, that it was probably the better idea. I wrote him weeks and weeks ago, begging him to come and let me explain, so he could take care of you. He never answered. He never replied. He never acknowledged either you or me._

_Maybe it’s my fault. But in the end, he wasn’t a man who cared about anything or anyone but himself. I had known him for some time, and I tried to get his attention. He wasn’t a bad man, but he wouldn’t have cared. You would have been a burden to him too. Clearly so, because he refused to contact me, he blocked my attempt at getting in touch. He was more of an egoist than I feared he would be. And I’m sorry. CA are trying their luck now, and they will have him acknowledge you and take legal guardianship. But he won’t care, I’m afraid. He will do what he has to, but not more. I am sorry I have to leave you like this._

_Kevin was with me even before you were born. He had promised me he would always treat you like his son. And he didn’t.  
I couldn’t do an ing. I wanted to stop him. I tried. I couldn’t. It’s the second time I let you down. I couldn’t love you, and I couldn’t stop Kevin from hurt g you. It was as if I was trapped inside my own mind. I saw what was happening, and I couldn’t stop it. I am so sorry, Rus . So sorry. _

_I can only hope you have a better life now. That your real father at least provided a place for you. He would never do so willingly, but forced by the law, he would. The best thing is if he would give you up for adoption, then you would have a family, a real family. And a m her who wouldn’t be a failu like me, and a ther who wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I hope that whoever ends up having to care for you that they did a better job of it than I did._

_Are you happy? I wish you are. You deserve better. Maybe it’s only a foster family, and I can only hope he didn’t put you into a children’s home though by now, I don’t know anymore. I thought he was a good man. That he didn’t even acknowledge the letter I sent hurts me. I know it was my fault, but I thought him a better man than that._

_Russell, I hope you can be happy. I hope you can be a good man. I don’t know if you will ever meet your father, but I hope if you do, then he won’t hurt you like I did, and like Kevin did. Maybe you have forgotten me. It would be better._

_I am sorry about everything, Russell. I hope you have a good life._

_Mum._

Anders lowered the letter again and realised his hands were trembling. 

How could she? 

How could she write those things to her own son? How could she abuse Russell like that as a confessor for her own failures, and simultaneously put the blame on someone else?

No wonder Russell had been hurting like that. No wonder he had doubted everything during the last twelve years. It hadn’t been called for, sure. Surely Russell couldn’t have forgotten the first year, when both of them had worked so hard to establish something like a father-son-relationship and how it eventually worked out. But Anders had to admit that he would have hated the whole world as well if he had been presented with something like that. 

“Oh Russ...” He said with a sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Russell didn’t reply, and Anders looked down, to discover that he had fallen asleep. His head in his father’s lap, his seventeen year old son had fallen asleep as if he was still a child needing the comfort of physical contact. Anders closed his eyes and leaned back. 

“Fuck.”

After a moment, however, Anders leaned forward and carefully slipped a hand under Russell’s head, lifting and holding it as he slid away from him. He replaced his leg with a pillow and found another blanket to drape over Russell’s curled-up body. 

It took Anders two cups of coffee to calm his mind again. And then he was still left none the wiser as to how he could approach the subject. So instead, he set his mind to something that was easier to manage, and that was the fact that Russell hadn’t eaten properly in days. He figured another lamb casserole was in order, but he would have to go shopping for that.

Another look into the living room, however, assured him of the fact that Russell was deep asleep and wouldn’t wake for some time yet. 

He made it quick, and was indeed back home without Russell having woken up alone. But before he started on the lamb casserole, Anders whipped up something else that he carried into the living room. He settled down with a cup of coffee to wait, and when Russell woke up somewhat later, he opened his eyes to find a glass of chocolate milk and a plate full of fairy bread waiting for him. 

He sat up and looked at his father with a small smile that was something between embarrassed and grateful. “Thanks, Dad.”

Anders managed a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

After Russell had practically inhaled both the fairy bread and the chocolate milk, Anders put his own cup down and moved towards the other sofa to sit beside his son. 

“So,” he began and cleared his throat. “I have to admit I’m more than a little angry at your mother right now.”  
Russell shrugged.  
“I know that shrug, Russ. It means you can’t bring yourself to say what’s on your mind.”  
At that, Russell looked up, annoyance mingling with confusion in his eyes.   
“You’ve been doing that since the day I met you.” Anders took one of Russell’s hands. “Which brings us back to the reason for this.”

Their eyes met, for the first time in days. 

“Russ.” Anders closed his fingers around his son’s. “I can understand why your mother would think those things about me. But I can’t forgive her for throwing them at you, like this, when she had no way of knowing what truly happened, and what would happen after she had left the picture.”  
Swallowing hard, Russell looked at his hands. “I don’t understand... I thought I knew what happened.”  
“We talked about this, once. But you were ten, and apparently you don’t remember. That letter your mother talked about? It never reached me. Not in time, at least.”

Russell looked up again, eyes wide. “I know... I know we talked about it... But...”  
“We didn’t talk about that letter at length so I guess... anyway. No, the letter should have been in the same batch of paperwork as the paternity order. And it wasn’t. I didn’t get it before I actually was in Wellington and had my first talk with Angela Lucas. Remember her?”  
“Somewhat.” Russell nodded. 

“So. It was in her office that I got the letter. Your mother had been dead for three weeks at that point. And I can understand she was getting desperate. She had hopes that the thing about never telling me about you wouldn’t have some dire consequences. But as it suddenly felt to her, it had. She had no way of knowing what had really happened.”  
Russell nodded again, biting his lower lip.

Anders took a deep breath and exhaled heavily with puffed cheeks. “I’ll be honest now, because I think you’re old enough to handle it now. I was shocked when I was told you existed. And pretty annoyed. I mean, it had been five years, so to me, it felt as if she couldn’t be bothered before and now needed the money. I was ready to do my duty, you know. I wasn’t about to weasel out of it. I would have paid up. But it was about more than money. But for that, I wasn’t ready.”  
“Ready for what?”  
“To take legal guardianship,” Anders replied. “I didn’t want to have anything to do with a child. See... the man I was back then...” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t father material. And I didn’t want to have anything to do with a kid, even if it was mine. I thought it was better for that kid to stay as far away from me as possible, and as it was, that was true. I.... well. I’ve been through more pairs of panties during the months prior than fit into a wardrobe, and my recreational habits were more than questionable.”

Anders waited for a moment for this titbit of information to sink in. He didn’t like to be so open about this, especially not with his son, but right now, it was a necessity. And surely, after a moment, Russell’s eyes widened almost comically. 

“...Dad?”  
“Snow, mostly.” Anders shrugged. “Booze, and a lot of that. Yes, I was a very shady character and a prick and I had no morals when it came to sex and drugs. To throw a child into my life wouldn’t have done that kid a favour.”  
“But...”  
“But.” Anders smiled crookedly. “I wasn’t a total ass, you know. Or maybe I was, but I wasn’t heartless. But you were only a line of print on a piece of paper. Which was a major nuisance at that time.”  
“But...” Russell shook his head.

“But,” Anders said again. “But then I saw you. And now don’t you dare to think I fell in love with you.”  
Despite everything, Russell chuckled under his breath.  
“You know enough by now about my own father, right? And that’s what I saw in your eyes, Russ. I saw a child being put through what I had to go through as a kid. And I couldn’t let that happen.”  
“But...” Russell shook his head. “But you said you couldn’t... you didn’t want a kid.”  
“I didn’t,” Anders replied simply. “But I couldn’t deny you were my son, you know. You looked like me. Looking at you felt like looking at myself in the past. And it hurt. Because I knew exactly what you were going through.”  
“But what made you take me with you instead of... of giving me up for adoption?”

“That’s a tough one,” Anders replied after a thoughtful pause. “To this day, I’m not quite sure myself, but I know it was at least partly because I wanted to give you something that I never had: a home where you wouldn’t be afraid and would have everything you need. I know you could have had that in a foster or adoptive family. And I don’t know why I felt the urge to do it myself. I honestly don’t know. I would never have thought I’d have protective instincts either, but seeing you there, with Kevin treating you like that... they suddenly kicked in full force.”

Russell met his father’s eyes and they looked at each other for a long moment. 

“You started as a nuisance, Russ. I won’t deny that. But I wanted to be better than that. And somehow I managed. I don’t understand it, not even after all this time, because I remember clearly what kind of man I was. But here we are, Russ.” Anders smiled warmly at his son. “And I think we’re not doing too badly, right?”  
Russell managed to give him a smile in return, then lowered his eyes again. “I’m sorry I kind of... forgot about all that. I don’t understand why.”  
“You were hurt. You hated the whole world. That included me, I guess. And I guess you keyed yourself up into believing that everything was just a show I put on. Acting for appearances sake.”  
Russell shrugged again, not meeting his father’s eyes, but this time, Anders let him be.   
He squeezed Russell’s hands again. “But the most important thing is this, Russell, and you have to believe that.”

Russell looked up again. 

“As hard as that first year was for me, and as much as I regretted my choice every now and then... I never blamed you for all the trouble. Never. Do you believe that?”  
After a moment, Russell nodded.  
“And another thing, Russ.” Anders leaned forward. “I never thought it would happen, but... back then... after the accident... when I was in the ER trying to find out what had happened to you...” He swallowed, the memory still painful eve after twelve years. “And when I heard that one boy had been DOA... I thought I was... It was the worst moment of my life, Russ. I know it’s not really... I’m kind of an ass that it took me almost loosing you to realise what you meant to me. But you do. We had a rough start. And... but Russell...”

Anders had to pause, and both of them looked at their joined hands, fingers entwined. 

“You are the best that ever happened to me, Russ.” Anders looked up again, and he could see Russell’s eyes fill with tears. “You made me a better man. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Russell let go of his father’s hands and threw himself forward, clamping his arms around Anders with a sob.

“And you know what?” He muttered into Anders’s shoulder after a moment. “I remember I was afraid before meeting you. I didn’t know who you were. Kevin had told me you wouldn’t care. But then I saw you... and you were handsome and kind and... and... and I wanted you to be my dad, you know? I wanted you to care, I wanted it so much... but I was scared because I didn’t know you. But you know what else?” He peeled his face out of Anders’s shoulder to look at him. “When you said to Kevin you would never raise your hand against me? It took me a bit to figure it out. But I wanted you to take me with you. I was scared of leaving Kevin. But I wanted to go with you.”  
Anders shook his head. “Christ, I wanted to strangle him when he tried to make you chose. I knew that moment that I wouldn’t leave Wellington without you.”

Russell smiled at him through his tears. “You were my knight in shining armour, you know that? You came into my life and took me away, just like a prince in a fairy tale. I dreamed you were a prince, and I was your son, and you would take me away into your kingdom and I would have a better life with a family and friends and new clothes and toys...” He shook his head and a single tear fell from the lashes of his left eye. “And you did. You took me away into a better life. My knight in shining armour.”  
Anders had to blink away the mist in his eyes.

“Dad... When you said...” Russell chewed his lips. “When you said I was the best that ever happened to you...”  
“I meant it.”  
“I know.” Russell smiled through his tears. “And you know why? Because you were that, too. You were the best that had ever happened to me.” Then his voice broke. “And I’m so sorry I just...”

After a second, they both fell forward and embraced.

“We’re a pair of soppy sissies,” Anders muttered after a moment.  
“Yeah.” Russell chuckled. “Terrible.”  
“Good no one’s here to see us like this.”  
“Definitely.”

They leaned back, smiled at each other through their tears, and chuckled.

* * *

Russell gave Anders a hand with making dinner, and Anders watched with amusement how his son devoured half of the casserole on his own. 

“I see you enjoyed that.”  
Russell put down his fork with an embarrassed smile and a shrug.   
“You didn’t really eat much since Sunday evening, did you?”  
“No. I couldn’t, really.”  
“Never mind that.” Anders leaned forward again and took his son’s hands. “You’re sick tomorrow too, by the way. And tomorrow, we’re going to Wellington.”

Russell withdrew his hands and leaned back, his mouth hanging open.

“See.” Anders pressed his lips together for a moment. “I didn’t actually think of it until this afternoon. But I think... no. I know that going to Wellington would be a good idea.”  
“And why is that?”  
“I think you should go and visit your mother’s grave one last time. I think you need the closure.”

Russell’s face darkened. “And who made you my therapist?”  
Anders shrugged. “That isn’t therapy. You can say no, of course. I think it would be a good idea. I would have, if I was in your place. But I couldn’t, and I never will, because I don’t have a grave.”  
“You don’t?” Russell tilted his head. “I mean... but your mother is dead?”  
“My mother is assumed dead, Russ. She left and never returned. She’s been gone for almost thirty years now, and even if she was alive for years, she’d likely be dead by now. But where she is, or where she was...” Anders shrugged. “For all intents and purposes, there is no grave.”

He couldn’t really explain it, and even if this was a bit of a white lie, there was no way he could tell Russell that his grandmother had turned into a tree and perished in a forest fire.

“And if you had a grave,” Russell ventured cautiously after a moment. “If you had one, would you go there often?”  
“I don’t know...” Anders shrugged while shaking his head. “Often, maybe not. But you know... After what happened... and therapy and all that... I would have. Once, at least.”  
“And you think I should go visit Mum’s...” He faltered. “My mother’s grave.”  
“I think you should, yes.”

Russell stared at his empty plate. “I don’t really want to go back to Wellington.”  
“Totally understandable.” Anders reached out again to take one of Russell’s hands. “But you won’t be going alone. And it’ll be only a day or two. And then you’ll never have to go there again.”  
Heaving a heavy sigh, Russell closed his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

Anders let go of his hands and got up, collected both plates and headed for the kitchen.

“You can think about it, if you want.” He opened the dishwasher. “Sleep on it. Tomorrow morning is early enough to decide if we’re going or not. Last minute tickets don’t cost a fortune, after all.”  
“Okay...” Russell got up as well and carried the empty casserole dish into the kitchen. “But I think... I mean... I sleep on it, yeah. But I...” He broke off.

Anders looked up to find him stare at the windowsill.

“Russ.” He straightened up and draped an arm around Russell’s shoulders. “Let that go.”  
Russell shrugged. “It’s just...”  
“I know. Let it go, Russ. We’ve probably been past having to use a swear jar anyway.”  
“I don’t think we ever will,” Russell said in a brave attempt to lighten the mood.  
“Wanna buy a new piggybank tomorrow?”  
Russell chuckled and shook his head. “We see how it goes, right? If Auntie Dawn starts complaining, we’d better.”

Anders nudged his son’s cheek with a fist. “Go to bed, Russ. You still look tired as fuck.”  
“See, it’s already starting,” Russell replied. “But you’re right.”  
“I am always right.”  
Russell blew a raspberry.  
“And I’m right behind you, as well. I didn’t sleep properly last night, either.”

* * *

Anders kept staring at the ceiling, despite his tiredness. He was haunted by memories that were too strong to let go.

_“Hi, I’m Anders. You’re Russell, right? That’s a nice crocodile you got there.”_   
_“Talk clearly, for Christ’s sake!”_   
_“It’s an alligator...”_   
_“Okay, sorry. And what’s his name?”_   
_“Al.”_   
_“Well, that sounds about right. Al the Alligator.”_

Those eyes. He would never forget those eyes. He still had the picture. No longer on his phone, but on his laptop. 

_“Anders?”_  
 _“Hm?”_   
_“When do I have to go back?”_  
 _“Two more days. Today’s Saturday, and tomorrow’s Sunday, so kindergarten won’t be before Monday.”_  
 _“No, not Kohimarama. Back.”_  
 _“Back where?”_  
 _“Back to Wellington.”_

Russell had never been back to Wellington. But Anders firmly believed he needed the closure now. And maybe... maybe he needed the closure for himself as well.


	8. Chapter 8

When Russell came downstairs the next morning, he was already carrying his backpack. He put that down next to his shoes and padded into the kitchen area where Anders was just getting two coffees ready. 

“I'm ready,” Russell said and took the offered cup.  
Anders looked at him, then past him and the backpack next to the door. “Wellington?”  
Russell nodded. “I thought about it, you know... and you're right. I think... no, I know that last time I said good bye... I didn't really know what I was doing, was I?”  
“I don't think you realised you weren't coming back, no.”

Russell closed his eyes has he inhaled the steam rising from his coffee. “No. I don't think I knew I was never going to see Kevin again, either.”  
Anders watched the frown on his son's face. “You think about him a lot?”  
“No.” Russell opened his eyes again. “Only the last few days.”  
“No surprise, really,” Anders replied and took a sip. “Let's just hope we don't run into him as well.”  
“Shit...” Russell almost choked on his coffee. “That's not going to happen, right?”  
“Hopefully not.” Anders gave his son a crooked little smile. “Wellington’s a big place, though fate is a fucking weird bitch sometimes.”  
“I hope she can keep it in her pants,” Russell replied darkly. “I don't know...”  
“We'll deal with that when we have to.” Anders put his cup down. “Better get the tickets sorted now.”

* * *

A few hours later they were on their way to Wellington, but with their last minute booking they weren't sitting next to each other. Russell had his earphones in and Anders kept looking out of the window.

He still believed it was a good idea for Russell to visit his mother's grave again after the letter. But the mention of McInnis had given him a strange feeling of unease that he wasn't able to shed. He kept telling himself he was just stressing out for nothing. How big were the chances after all?

But yeah, fate was a fucking bitch. And then again, what could he actually do even if they happened to run into each other? Sweet fuck all. Russell was almost a man now and the emails with pictures Anders had kept on sending had gone unanswered for years until, by the time Russell had turned nine, the last mail he had sent had bounced back with the note recipient unknown. 

_“Anders?”_   
_“Yes?”_   
_“Where are we going?”_   
_“Auckland. We're going home.”_

Anders closed his eyes and couldn't stop his mind from summoning memories. Especially pictures of a little boy with blonde hair and frightened blue eyes looking at him from a deep pit of sadness and despair. With a sigh, Anders opened his eyes again and let his eyes roam across the rows of passengers until they found Russell three rows down and on the other side. His eyes were closed as he listened to his music. 

_“You only want him so I can't have him anymore!”_

Anders smiled grimly. 

_Damn right I did, you asshole. You weren't supposed to have him anymore. But not because of you. Because of him. You wouldn't have recognised him after the first year._

No, the thought of what Russell's life might have been was unbearable.   
It had been unbearable back then, when the boy had been hardly more than a name and a pair of eyes, and it sure as fuck was unbearable now, after their years together. 

Anders spent the remainder of the flight lost in memories, both pleasant and unpleasant ones.

Since they didn't have more than hand luggage the checkout was quick and easy, and after checking into the hotel Anders had booked for the night, they took a walk, looking for a place to have dinner. 

That night, Anders watched his sleeping son's face, a wry smile on his own at the thought that it had been years since the two of them had actually slept in the same bed. Truth to be told, Anders had been a tiny little bit worried as Russell had occasionally come into his bed at night long past the age where children normally did so, but since Russell had had a huge gap to fill and a lot to catch up on, Anders had never lost a word about it. It had stopped on its own accord, only somewhat later than it would have with another child. Russell had always been more clingy and cuddly than his peers. 

And with Russell's face relaxed in sleep, Anders could still see traces of the boy who had fallen asleep holding on to his hand and who had made his heart ache with the wish of being able to be his dad. 

Anders closed his eyes and, listening to Russell's even breathing, allowed himself the small feeling of triumph at the thought that Russell would never have called Kevin McInnis Dad.

* * *

Since they would be taking a plane back to Auckland that very afternoon Russell and Anders checked out again after breakfast and had a taxi take them to Karori with a detour past a flower shop. Anders didn't fail to notice that Russell didn't buy roses. 

Since they weren't in a hurry and the weather was fine Anders sent the taxi on its way again after saving the number of the company in his phone. 

Neither of them could remember where they had to go, after all those years, and they spent almost an hour walking up and down the rows until Russell stopped at a small monument. 

“I remember that,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “We walked past that.” And with a crooked smile, he added: “Only, it was bigger back then.”  
Anders chuckled and looked left and right. “Now that you mention it... that means we're...” He looked back into the direction of the entrance gates. “Came from there and...”  
“Let's try that way,” Russell said and Anders agreed. 

Nothing looked familiar, nothing but the small monument, that is, and after a while, Russell dropped his arms with a frustrated sigh. “We need to turn back.”  
“Looks like.”

So they walked back to the small monument, and now Anders realised that it looked more familiar than approached from the other direction. 

It was then that the memory was suddenly back, as clearly as a picture: The two elderly ladies, one with a huge ugly handbag and the other with a Zimmer frame, a few empty flower pots in the small basket between the handles. They had been standing right here, in front of the carved inscription.

Anders slowly turned around as Russell suddenly froze. They both simultaneously spotted it. 

The grave was surprisingly well kept and cared for, there were flowers and a small, heart-shaped stone with the word **Forever** engraved on it.

Russell slowly went down into a crouch and stared at the gravestone for a very long time. Anders took a step back to give him some privacy.

“Hey Mum,” Russell finally said. “Wonder who's doing all the flowers here.” He put down his own flowers. “Can't imagine it's Kevin, though what do I know? I thought I had it sorted and knew my shit, and then you drop that shit bomb on me. That stupid letter. Did you even realise what you were doing, or were you too far gone? Have you any idea how much that hurt me? No, you don't. You didn't. Maybe you did but... no, you weren't a bad person. Just a bad mother. But still... that sucked, okay? Especially because you had no fucking clue what the deal was with Anders.”

He sighed and then lowered himself down to sit on the grass. 

“You didn't know what happened. You had no right to shed that kind of light on him. He didn't know, you never told him about me, and then you blamed him for being angry? And not only that... you called him names and shit and... and really... you had no right. No right whatsoever. And it wasn't even his fault. The stupid guy who was taking care of the files fucked it up. The letter was never sent to Auckland. Dad only got it after he came to Wellington, and that was three weeks too late. And you just went at him like that... Christ... that was a dick move. That whole fucking letter was.”

Russell took a deep breath and shook his head. “The way you wrote, you turned my father into a heartless asshole. But you know what? It didn't do anything about... it didn’t change that the man who was my father at that time was the real monster. You told me you watched him being cruel to me and couldn't stop him. Like, really? Not even tell him to stop beating your son? You just didn't give a shit. If you had been as sorry as you wrote, you would have opened your mouth at least once, you know.”

Russell plucked a few blades of grass and rubbed them together between his fingers. Then he looked up at the gravestone again, blinking into the sun. 

“Kevin told me my father wouldn't care. You told me my father wouldn't care. What right did you have to blame a man who had nothing to do with your personal fuck-ups? You used him as a sperm donor and then are miffed he's not over the moon when told he's a father of a five year old. Reality check? How sick in the head were you? And you told me about midwives and post partum depression and shit... they must have talked to you about therapy. Medication. Anything. But you didn't even ask them for help to cope with that. You know, I could forgive you that. I know what a mental illness is. But that you wrote that shit about my father... that's something I can't forgive. You said you didn't even know him, and in the same sentence, called him a heartless egoist because he didn't ask how high when you told him to jump.”

Another handful of grass was torn up and Russell twirled the blades between his fingers.

“Kevin told me he wouldn't care. But you know what? He cared. He didn't even know me, but from the first moment he saw me he cared more than you and Kevin together. I daydreamed, you know. From the day you told me about my real father I dreamed he was a good man, a prince who would come and take me to his kingdom and we would be rich and happy together. And all you two ever did was badmouth him until I was scared of him. But he...” Russell swallowed and his voice broke. “Fuck, he was the best thing ever happened to me! He never beat me, and he took care of me, and he bought me stuff I wanted just because I wanted it and... and... to me, he was a knight in shining armour who came to save me from Kevin... I just... I remember he was beginning to complain that I eat too much. Christ... if Anders hadn't taken me with him to Auckland...”

After adjusting his position, Russell dropped the shredded grass and wiped the stray bits off his thighs. 

“I don't know... And I don't really care, why both of you thought you could blame my father for everything that you fucked up,” he went on with a husky voice. “But I swear, he was the best that ever happened to me. He gave up everything so I could live with him. He went to therapy with me so we could become something of a family. He gave me a home and a family with uncles and aunties and cousins. He put up with me trying to learn an instrument and... and... just... something I thought I would never have, you see? He's my dad. He's been my mum _and_ dad for all that time, he read bedtime stories and took me to the playground and the zoo, he threw birthday parties and put band-aids on my knees and he taught me how to wash my hair and how to piss without spraying all over the toilet and my feet. And all you ever did was calling him a heartless prick.”

He got up and shook his head, then undid the hair elastic. He smoothed the hair back and combed it back together with his fingers before putting the ponytail back into place. 

“I can forgive you a lot of things, but not that you used him as a scapegoat.” Russell heaved a sigh that had his shoulders drop. “But in the end, I can be grateful that you did try and get him involved because if you had just put me into a home or given up for adoption, I would have never met him.” He took a step but turned around again. “So... I won't come here again. I don't see the point. Bye...” He hesitated. “Bye, April.”

Anders had his arms crossed as he watched his son return to him. Russell tried to smile, hands shoved into his pockets.

Anders draped an arm around Russell's shoulders “When did you grow up that much?”  
Russell shrugged. “Remember what Rose said?”  
“That children who lose their parents grow up faster and mature earlier?”  
“Yeah.” He shrugged again. “Don't feel very grown up right now, though.”  
“It's okay.” Anders dropped his arm again. “Wanna sleep in my bed again tonight?”

Russell rolled his eyes. “Dad...”  
“Just asking.”  
“Seriously...”  
“Russ.” Anders looked at his son, the smirk gone from his face. “No offence, okay? I just felt the need to check if my teenage son is still in there somewhere.”

Their eyes met.

“Dad?”  
“Yes?”  
“Can I have a hot chocolate?”  
Anders chuckled. “Or maybe a Fluffy?”  
“With a Jet Plane?” A sparkle returned into Russell's eyes.   
“With a Jet Plane.” Anders nudged him in the ribs. “And now let's get the fuck out of here. I hate cemeteries.”

“Dad?” Russell asked on their way towards the gates.  
“Hm?”  
“Do you think it's Kevin who cares for that grave?”  
“Fuck if I know.” Anders could only shrug. “Though he was very obviously hurting when I met you two. I don't know if... I don't know, Russ. Why?”  
“I don't really...” A deep frown settled onto Russell's face. “Because if it's him, then he cares more for her grave than he has ever cared for me.”

Anders was at a loss about what to reply to that.

Russell looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter anymore. Can we go home?”  
“Take off is at three. Plenty of time for a Fluffy.”  
“Great.” Russell managed a smile. “Is it too much when I ask for moussaka tonight?”  
“If you ask really nicely.” Anders winked.  
“Dad, can we please have moussaka tonight?” Russell fluttered his eyelashes and put on his sweetest angel-smile.   
“I'm digging my own grave when I say I could never resist that smile, don't I?”  
“Noted,” Russell replied with a smirk “I try that again next time we negotiate pocket money.”  
“I am fucked,” Anders said drily.

They exchanged another look, and finally, shared a relieved little laugh, banishing the ghosts from the past as best as they could.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't aware when I wrote this where that particular phrase came from. So here's Anders, sort of quoting David Bowie.

As much of a child Russell had been back in Wellington with his joy about the Fluffy (and the Jet Plane), he was a young man again when he and Anders were home again that evening.

“Want me to run to the shop, Dad?” Russell asked after Anders had taken stock.  
“Yes, we need a few things.” Anders surfaced again behind the kitchen counter after having dug through a cabinet to find the dish he needed. “I’d suggest you walk, though; it’s pretty far for a run.”  
Russell rolled his eyes and put his shoes back on. “See you Dad!”

They spent the evening more or less in companionable silence, sharing another glass of wine after a moussaka that had turned out really good. They had another brief hug before going to bed quite early, and both slept like the dead that night. 

Russell was making Eggs Benedict when Anders came down the stairs the next morning, but Anders could see something was on Russell’s mind again. He kept his eyes on his son, but it wasn’t before they had done the dishes and settled down with another coffee in the living room that Russell was desperately trying to start talking and clearly didn’t know how to begin. 

Eventually, he took a deep breath and said: “Dad...”  
“Yes?”  
“I was wondering... I mean... about...”  
Anders summoned more patience. “About? You know that you don’t have to be afraid of talking to me, okay?”  
“I’m not afraid, I’m just...” Russell clutched his cup like a lifesaver. “I was... you know... wondering about the rules for... uhm. Sleepovers?”  
“Sleepovers.” Anders adjusted his position. “I thought we had established those?”

Russell visibly squirmed. “Yeah, I know, it’s just... it’s because...”  
“Look.” Anders put his cup down onto the table and leaned forward. “I can see that you want to take advantage of the good vibes we have right now. Just do it. I won’t bite your head off.”

Russell took a deep breath. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean the... normal kinds of sleepovers.”  
“What other kind of sleepovers are there?” And then it clicked. “Oh. _Those_ kind of sleepovers.”  
“Yeah...” Russell couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

“Okay.” Anders leaned back and crossed his legs. “Pretty much the same as the normal kind. Only on nights when there’s no school the next day. When the other parents have given their okay. I don’t want to hear anything in my bedroom and with the office between our rooms that’s still not impossible, right?”  
“Yeah...” Russell was kneading his fingers.

“I take it there’s a concrete reason for your question?”  
“I... uhm.” Russell looked up again and tried to smile. “Ah... yes. Sort of.”  
“And who is the lucky young lady? Or young man? Do I know them, by chance? I don’t mean to pry of course.” He leaned back. “Just curious.”

Russell looked as if he had swallowed his own tongue. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Anders gave his son a crooked smile. “Too curious, eh? Sorry about that.”  
“What? No! Uhm...” Russell tried to smile as well and failed utterly. “No... actually... I was...”

Waiting patiently, Anders uncrossed his legs to swap their position. 

“Uhm. Dad...” Russell chewed his lip and finally, managed to look at his father. “It’s... you’re... I mean... would you be okay with it?”  
“To have your love interest stay over?”   
Russell only managed a nod.

Looking at his son in his discomfort, Anders had the feeling that the moment he had been preparing himself for since Russell’s twelfth birthday seemed to have arrived. Not that he had expected this. He had just wanted to be prepared to handle the eventuality with as little fuss as possible – although he would never tell Russell that he had practiced conversations with himself in the mirror.

“See it’s because...” Russell cleared his throat and looked as if he would rather be anywhere else right now.  
“Russ.” Anders looked at his son with an encouraging smile. “Just get it over with. Really, what do you expect me to do? Disown you and throw you out?”  
After shaking his head, Russell brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “You know already anyway, don’t you?”  
“I suspect. You’ll still feel better if you get it over with.”  
“Right. Okay.” Russell took another deep breath. “It would... the sleepover I mean. It would be... a boyfriend because... yeah... I’m gay.”

Anders waited for a moment until Russell’s facial colour had returned to normal. “Better?”  
A silent nod was his only answer.  
“Russ, you just gotta believe me when I say it doesn’t make a difference, okay?”  
This time, he got a forced, somewhat unhappy smile.  
“Really. I mean, I can see this conversation makes you uncomfortable, and I can understand why. But there’s no reason for that, okay? It doesn’t matter. And it’s not my business anyway. You’re in love? It’s not my business, and it’s even less my business what they have between their legs. It’s what’s between their ears that matters. As long as they make you happy...” He shrugged. “It really doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Russell visibly deflated with relief.   
“What did you expect would happen?” Anders asked.  
“I don’t know.” His son looked up at him and shook his head. “I really don’t know.”  
“Did you really believe I’d turn you out?”  
“No.” This time, the smile was real. “Just... I couldn’t imagine you’d be happy about it.”  
“It’s not my place to be happy or not about your sexual orientation, Russ. It’s my place to accept it.”  
Russell shook his head. “How can you possibly be so awesome about this?”

Anders congratulated himself and did a mental fistpump. “I am only trying to be the dad I always wanted to have, you know?”

Their eyes met. After a moment, they exchanged a genuine smile.

“I mean, okay, I obviously can’t give you any real advice on dating, but I could help you out with a few pick-up lines if you need any.”  
“Dad...”  
“But I can’t imagine dating itself would be that different. It’s the technical particulars where I have to...”  
“Dad, please stop.” Russell’s face was glowing again.  
“Right.” Anders got up. “Want another coffee?”  
“Yes.” Russell sighed. “That’d be nice.”

After Anders had settled down again with two coffees that he had put onto the table, he moistened his lips with a quick flick of his tongue before he took a deep breath. 

“I just need to get this off my chest now as well, okay? I guess it’s a parent thing.”  
“Okay...”  
“Stay safe, okay? I know you’re a responsible young man. But in the heat of the moment, things can go wrong.”  
“Dad...” Russell’s cheeks were glowing. “It’s not as if one of us could get pregnant or something.”  
“No, of course not.” Anders smiled. “Still. Stay safe, okay?”  
Russell nodded, the colour if his cheeks dimming from red to a rosy tint. 

“And there’s another thing, and I know that it’ll make you... well. Anyway. It’s an offer, okay?”

Anders waited until Russell nodded.

“If you’re too uncomfortable or embarrassed to buy condoms I can do that for you, no sweat. I’ll buy them, you just gotta promise me you’ll use them.”  
Russell’s cheeks were glowing red again, but he nodded. He licked his lips and shook his head. “Thanks, Dad. You’re awesome.”

With a smile, Anders pointed at the wall next to the door into the living room, and the certificate hanging there that Emma had given him after the party for Russell’s sixteenth Birthday: _Most Awesome Dad Award_.

“I have a title to defend and a reputation to lose,” he said with a wink.

Russell looked up at the small, framed print and smiled as well. When their eyes met, he was able to laugh together with his father, and was visibly beginning to unwind again.

“So,” Anders leaned back. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy, but do I know that crush of yours?”  
The rosy tint on Russell’s cheeks was back. “Not... personally, no.”  
“Too bad. As I said... I’d love to give you a tip or two...”  
“See.” Russell fidgeted a little, but his eyes were downcast. “He’s straight.”  
“Oh fuck.” Anders realised that this wasn’t something that had ever applied to him and that it was a pretty big obstacle. Every single time. “That is shit.”  
“Pretty much.” Russell was kneading his hands again.

“Say.” Anders leaned forward again. “Is there a chance he could be bi?”  
“I don’t think he is. He had a girlfriend when we met.” He was staring unhappily at his hands.

There was a thoughtful silence.

“You know,” Russell said after a moment. “I was thinking if... if I meet a guy and... what if he hadn’t come out parents already. And... I don’t know. What if his parents wouldn’t be as cool about it as you are? It kind of... I dunno.” He looked up with a frown. “Worries me?”  
“Hm.” Anders rubbed a hand across his chin. “I would like to think that wouldn’t be necessary nowadays, but... I see your point.”  
Russell sighed. 

“Christ, I wish that was something I could help you with,” Anders said after a moment with an exasperated sigh. “I can’t even go and threaten them, I seriously lack intimidating abilities.”  
“Dad...” Russell grinned and shook his head. 

Anders sighed and shook his head as well. When he looked at his son again, he met his eyes and, after pressing his lips together for a second, took one of Russell’s hands.

“Listen.”  
Russell, realising the sudden change of mood, nodded slowly.  
“I don’t know if... if that helps, but...” Anders cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to get into trouble, or anyone else. If you take a boy home whose parents don’t know, or don’t approve, then I have to know, okay? In case I have to cover you.”  
His eyes widening and his mouth hanging open, Russell stared at his father for a moment before he blinked hastily a few times. “You’d do that?”  
“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t, would I?”  
“Wow...” Russell shook his head. “You really are the most awesome dad ever, you know?”

Anders smiled victoriously and draped an arm around his son’s shoulders. “As I said, I am trying to be the father I always wanted to have. I told you about mine, didn’t I? He beat seven kinds of crap out of me when he caught me looking at a gay porn magazine once.”  
Russell blinked in confusion. “A what?”  
Anders shrugged. “I was looking for reference, you know? Dick sizes, mostly. Was a bit naive, comparing myself to porn models, as I realised later. Body hair, too.”  
“Body hair?” Russell looked down at himself.  
“Yeah... See, when it comes to body hair I was a pretty late bloomer. Once it started though it didn’t really stop.” He grinned. “So no matter... if you want chest hair, you’ve got a few years to go yet, and if you don’t want any, then you’ve got a few years to go yet.”

Russell contemplated this for a moment. “So... your father wasn’t also a brutal dick, he was also a homophobe?”  
“Homophobe enough to think he could beat it out of his son.” Anders shook his head. “He didn’t even bother to ask. He just couldn’t stand the thought of one of his sons being gay.”  
“He’d be pretty pissed if he knew his grandson is,” Russell said darkly.  
“If he’s still alive. I like to think he’s six feet under by now, though.” Anders got up and picked up the two empty cups. “More coffee?”  
“No, thanks, Dad. I’m coffeed out.”

While the coffee maker was brewing his next cup, Anders opened his briefcase that was still standing next to the dining table and took a small notepad out together with a pen. Upon returning to the living room with his coffee, he pressed a slip of paper into Russell’s hand, who then looked at it with a frown.

“The new WiFi password.”   
“Cool!” Russell jumped up. “Thank you! I’m still waiting for the confirmation email!” With that, he ran upstairs.

Anders leaned back and sighed.   
It was selfish to hope that Russell’s application wouldn’t go through. Utterly selfish. Russell would be heartbroken, as he had spent a huge amount of time and energy into being able to go to Norway for the last two terms of the year. It would be his dream come true, and Anders wouldn’t want that dream to be crushed.

But Norway. 

Of all countries, it had to be Norway. 

And yet, he hadn’t said anything. There was no way – again – he could explain to Russ why Norway was a bad idea. Or maybe it wasn’t, not really. Norway held a lot of bad and unpleasant memories. It wasn’t a black maw of doom waiting to swallow his son alive.

Russell’s whoop of delight was audible even down the stairs and in the living room. Anders listened to his son racing down the stairs, got up and braced himself.

“It went through!” Russell yelled. “I’m going to Norway!” With that, he threw himself at his father and pulled him into a fierce hug. “I’m going to Norway!”

And even if Anders had to put on a brave face, the joy that Russell emanated did make him smile. True, he would be away from home from July to December, not even home on his eighteenth birthday, but he would be back home before Christmas. 

But Norway...

Russell let go of him and jumped, doing a fistpump mid-air.

“I’m going to Norway!”

Anders shook his head to drive the memories away. There was no reason whatsoever to spoil Russell’s moment with his own bad memories. After all, they were just that. Memories.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering who Gaty is, you can read about him [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6469171/chapters/16474720).

In the months following the confirmation, after Russell had gone through the paperwork, he could hardly contain himself anymore. He made plans about what to pack, discarded them, made new plans, spent hours looking at flights and flight times, and was in general so caught up in his joy and making plans that he failed to notice Anders’s occasional expression of unease. 

He also started on Norwegian for earnest now. He had started with online lessons, but hadn’t been serious about it. Now he bought a language course, consisting of two books and two CDs, and got down to business. Quite often, when Anders went upstairs to call him down for dinner, and lunch too on weekends, he found Russell sitting at his desk with his earphones in and talking to his laptop with an expression of deep concentration. Anders tried not to listen to a language that summoned a lot of bad memories coming out of his son’s mouth.

Anders realised that his memories were starting to become a problem. He wasn’t even able anymore to be happy on Russell’s account, and they were turning into a paranoia. But then he thought maybe talking about them would help his brain realise how unnecessary it was, so he invited Mike and Michelle over for dinner one Sunday. They had a pleasant evening, with Russell’s infectious joy lighting up the mood, even Anders’s. 

But once Russell had retreated because he would have to go to school the next day, Anders opened another bottle of wine and it was clear that his good mood was evaporating again.

“So,” Mike said after Anders had poured another round and sat down again. “What’s troubling you?”  
“Russell is,” Anders said and looked at his wine. “Or rather, his destination.”  
“Oh.” After a sip of wine, Mike smiled at his brother. “I was wondering if that would come up at one point.”

Anders clutched the stem of his wine glass while Michelle just looked forward between the two of them.

“Remember it was Anders who got the branch of the Yggdrasil?” Mike asked her.  
“Oh,” Michelle said as well. “I didn’t even... sorry. I think I forgot.”  
“I wish.” Anders took a rather generous sip of wine. “I wish I could forget that. The journey, the way back, the whole ugly business of... Christ.” He took another swig. “I still hate her for making me do it.”  
“Who? Agnetha? But...” Michelle bit her lower lip. “How did she make you do it?”

Anders didn’t reply and stared at the table.

“Anders?” Mike leaned forward. “What’s the matter?”  
“What’s the matter.” Anders huffed out a mirthless chuckle. “What the matter is? I tell you what the matter is. What it was back then. It was my mum telling me to do something with a smile and it was... it was that little boy inside me who was still trying to do anything to get her acknowledgement or her approval.” He almost emptied his glass with the next sip. “I believed I could... she told me how important that bloody stick was. And I was naive enough to believe that if I brought it back, that someone, for once, would say to me: Well done, Anders.”

Mike and Michelle looked uncomfortably at each other.

“Yeah, I know.” Anders emptied his glass and shook his head. “But it was just the same old thing. She knew that you would have told her in no uncertain times where she could shove that bloody stick. Ty was her little darling boy whom she would never put into harm’s way and Axl was still just a baby to her. So that left me, and I was stupid enough to believe that just because I was necessary meant I was important.”

“I’m sorry, Anders,” Mike said after a sigh, and in a low voice.  
Anders shrugged. “Was the way things were back then. It’s not you I blame, it’s her. And myself, for being stupid enough to think that I could make my mother smile at me and she would mean it. She promised me she’d take care of my business too. And I was almost ruined when I came back because she did sweet fuck all.”

“Anders...” Mike cleared his throat.  
“Mikkel, forget it. That’s not my issue.” Anders took the bottle and refilled his glass. “My issue is that not only was Norway cold and dark and that the food was atrocious because I was apparently unable to order something edible. My issue is that I’ve had dealings with creatures that were only bearable because they looked human. I swear, Bragi must have had a headache at some point. I sure as fuck had one.” He took another generous sip. “That, and the god hunters.”  
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Michelle took a sip of wine as well. “I skilfully managed to forget about those.”  
Anders gave her a bitter smile. “I wish. They hunted me across the world and killed the woman I loved.”  
“Helen? But...”  
“Helen.” Anders stared at his hands. “Yeah, sure. It was a Bragi and Idun thing. But it wasn’t... it wasn’t only that. It was what had brought us together. But I really... I had never felt like that, and I never have again.”

“Anders...” Mike took a deep breath. “I don’t know... you probably don’t want to hear that right now, but Helen... It didn’t... Ty mentioned once that what if it wouldn’t end badly for Idun this time but for you? He was worried, and once he had mentioned it, I saw it too. That woman was completely taking over your life.”  
“And don’t I know that?” Anders met his eyes. “I knew. I just couldn’t do anything, because I didn’t want to. Was that healthy? It sure as fuck wasn’t. I didn’t want that. But I wanted her so much I couldn’t be bothered.”  
“That wasn’t love, Anders.”  
“It wasn’t?” Anders narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never been so happy, Mikkel. And I missed her as fuck for I don’t know how long. That Gaia turned out to be Idun was the worst that could have happened to me. Not only because of Axl, thought that was bad enough. Because of my memories of her. I literally did not want another woman at that point, hook-up or otherwise, and then she was thrown at me by a fucking shit-ass bit of fate and...” He broke off and shook his head. “Fuck. This isn’t even...”

“Anders...” Mike swallowed. “I don’t know if there is anything...”  
“No. No there isn’t.” Anders looked up again. “I got over her eventually, but it took a fucking long time, and longer than I was Bragi. But that’s... that’s not the issue either. The issue is that they found me. Natalie knew who I was. She approached me in the hotel in Norway, and she knew who I was. The only reason she didn’t kill me then and there was that she wanted to trail me so she could wipe out all of us.”  
“But what has that got to do with Russell?” Michelle asked.

“He’s my son,” Anders said simply. “I’m not a god anymore, but I’m sure that anyone who knows how to identify a god vessel would recognise me as one. When he was conceived, I was still Bragi. So it’s not the giants or dwarves or dark elves I’m worried about, it’s those fucking human god hunters who might get it into their heads that my son is one of those they have sworn to wipe out.”

Mike and Michelle exchanged another worried look.

“Do you really think that could happen?”  
“Fuck if I know!” Anders ran both hands through his hair. “Fuck if I know anything! They knew about me two days after I checked into the hotel, so what do I know?”  
“But what...” Michelle started. “But...”  
“I don’t know.” Anders gave back and shook his head again. “I don’t know. I can’t tell him now, can I? I can’t stop him from going, and I can’t tell him how he could stay safe because I don’t even know! I can’t protect him from that, and... I’m fucking scared.”

“But Anders.” Michelle leaned forward and placed one of her hands on top of his. “If they knew who and what you were, don’t you think they also know that those gods are no longer a threat? That they have left the earth?”  
“They could.” Anders shrugged, his mouth a thin line. “But they could think they came back.”

“Anders.” Mike cleared his throat. “It’s been so long. I’m sure you’re being too pessimistic about it.”  
“I wish.” Anders took another sip of wine. “I wish I was just being ridiculous.”  
“Anders,” Michelle said pointedly. “You’re being ridiculous. Russell isn’t a god, he never was, he will never be one, and even if the god hunters still exist, they would have no interest in him.”

Anders desperately wanted to believe her.

* * *

The farewell dinner took place the day Russell was leaving, although it was actually lunch. The plane was scheduled to take off at six thirty pm.  
Anders managed to keep a straight face and smile and laugh with the others through lunch and coffee afterwards, and the whole Johnson clan gave Russell an escort to the airport that evening. 

Christine was also there, and Emma clung to Russell like a baby monkey for several minutes while the two hugged fiercely. Emma was openly crying, her mascara and eyeliner turned into a mess, when she finally let go of her friend. Then Russell kissed her cheek and ruffled her hair, eliciting an undignified squeak because she hated it and he knew perfectly well. At least it made her smile again, if only a little.

After a lot of hugs and cuddles and backslappings Russell embraced his father one last time before he had to go.

“Take care of yourself.” Anders stepped back with a smile that looked less forced than it felt.  
“I’ll text you,” Russell replied, still grinning like mad. He totally failed to pick up on his father’s mood, but Anders preferred it that way.

Then Russell picked up his bag, shouldered his huge backpack and headed for the check-in. He turned around and waved, then he vanished out of sight. 

The Johnsons slowly dispersed again, into their cars and home again after a few more hugs for Anders. He let them go, and they sensed his desire to be alone.

Anders kept staring at the departures until the take-off of Russell’s plane was announced. He relocated into the lounge and watched the plane disappear.

Then he slowly headed for the exit and his car.

* * *

The house was empty. 

Not the kind of empty when no one is at home, though. A strange emptiness, a lifeless emptiness, and it was something that almost made Anders close the door again and get back into the car to visit Ty and Dawn after all. He didn’t, and after having slowly closed the door behind him, he looked around.

The house looked exactly the same as this morning. As yesterday. As last month. Last year.

Almost exactly as it had on the day Anders and Russell had moved in. 

There was the piano now where the sofa had been in the family area. The sofa Russell had spent hours on, and under, and around, playing with his Avengers. 

There were framed photographs on the opposite wall. Russell’s first day of school. Russell with the choir on stage. A picture of the whole family. And a few pictures of Russell as he got older, sometimes together with Anders. The latest one was a studio portrait of Russell, taken a few weeks ago. Anders kept staring at that for a long time before turning around.

He opened the cover of the piano and pressed one of the keys. With his forefinger, he started playing the first notes of _Three Blind Mice_ until he hit the wrong key. He closed the cover again and sighed.

After ambling aimlessly into the living room and back Anders made himself a coffee and sat down at the dining table. 

The coffee went cold on him without him even noticing. 

The house had never felt so empty. Not during all those weekends that Russell had stayed with Ty and Dawn so Anders could have some breathing space and go out. Not even during the time Russell had been in hospital. And not later on, when he was having occasional sleepovers at friends’ houses. 

Anders was so lost in memories that he didn’t notice how much time had passed, not until he had to finally get up because he had to use the bathroom.  
It was close to midnight. He hadn’t had dinner but wasn’t hungry, and he just stayed upstairs. 

Unable to stop himself, he slowly and cautiously opened the door to Russell’s room, but of course there was no one to tell him off for not knocking. 

Russell, always meticulous and borderline OCD just like Anders himself, had cleaned the room and straightened and sorted everything, taken the sheets off the bed and thrown a large cover over it to protect it from dust. The desk was cleaned, the books in the bookshelf sorted first by topic and then by size. 

Anders stopped in front of that and looked at the ship on the bookshelf. After Russell had become too old to play with his Vikings he had built an impressive diorama, of the ship landing and the Vikings disembarking and attacking a coastal village. A small smile tugged at Anders’s lips as he looked at it and thought about the incredible amount of love and care his son had put into this. And at the light in his eyes, back then, that first Christmas in Auckland, as he had unwrapped it.

There was an empty spot next to the diorama, and Anders realised that Russell had taken both Al and Gaty. And of course, his brain immediately summoned the image of Al sitting on his pillow. 

Anders turned around and left the room, casting one last look at the empty, barren bed before closing the door.

Twelve years. 

Twelve years ago, a selfish prick without morals had been forced to acknowledge the existence of a little boy he had never even heard of before.  
Twelve years ago, a pair of sad and hopeless eyes had changed his life forever and more than he would ever have thought possible. 

And yet, it somehow felt as if it was only a couple of years ago that he had closed the door behind Ty and Dawn before spending the first night with Russell alone in the new house.

The scared, helpless boy had somehow, almost overnight as it seemed, turned into a young man. His boy had grown up. He was leaving the nest Anders had spent so much time and work and blood and sweat and tears on to build. Trying out his wings. Ready to go his own way now.

“Soppy, sentimental idiot,” Anders muttered to himself as he headed for the bedroom. 

Before taking a shower, Anders gave himself a critical look in the mirror. Shoulders still square, belly still flat, ass still round and pleasant to look at. There was a lot of grey in his hair, however, the temples almost completely grey and the rest dusted with silver. He called them wisdom highlights to hide how much all those grey hairs bothered him.

His face was still the same as it had been twelve years ago, apart from the beard he had gotten so used to by now that he couldn’t imagine himself without it anymore. The crow’s feet a bit more pronounced, but otherwise, still handsome, just like Mike had confirmed. Still, seemingly not enough to land him something that resembled what Ty and Dawn had. Or Mike and Michelle. Or Axl and Hanna. And he was still wondering why he even bothered with those thoughts. It wasn’t going to happen.

The man in the mirror looked back at Anders, mouth a thin line. Yes, there were a few more lines visible now, around his mouth and on his forehead. He looked younger when he smiled.  
Only, he really didn’t feel like smiling right now. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down his body after closing his eyes.

It would be the day after tomorrow at the crack of dawn, Auckland time, that Russell would arrive in Trondheim, and he would be literally at the other end of the world then. As far away as possible while still on the same planet. And he would be away for months. And then, he wouldn’t be the same young man anymore that Anders remembered. He would have changed. Grown up even more. Ready to leave home for good.

Anders realised at that moment that he was alone in a huge, four bedroom house. Once Russell would have moved out, there was no point anymore in keeping it. He should sell the house and move back into a small bachelor’s flat. Or maybe not sell it but transfer ownership to Russell, if he wanted it. After all, there was no reason why Russell couldn’t start a family of his own. If he stayed in Auckland, that is. 

After going to bed, Anders stared at the ceiling while thinking back to a scared little boy still needing to have his ass wiped and a man completely out of his depths, who had somehow managed to turn from coincidentally cohabiting strangers into father and son within the course of a year. 

Then he remembered Russell and his excited, happy smile as he had waved goodbye at the airport.

Anders suddenly felt terribly alone. And very, very old.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been her eyes that had captured his interest, sparkling bright blue, as she was laughing at him over the rim of her glass. And after standing her another drink, Anders had been left without doubt that he was on the menu for the night. 

She was a classy woman with a taste for jewellery so expensive that it didn’t look expensive anymore. She was also quite hot-blooded and knew what she wanted, with no inhibitions to let him know about it and to take it. Their first night, spent in a luxurious hotel room, had been something to remember. 

Anders had sworn to himself he wouldn’t go into dating anymore. One night stands, hook ups, no strings attached... everything else was a waste of time. 

Carla had shattered that resolve with a wink and a smile. 

She had been delighted when she had asked Anders if it was him playing the piano and he had replied that no, he didn’t, but his son did. She had asked countless questions about him and said several times that she was looking forward to meeting him.

But if something seems too good to be true, it usually is. Anders had ignored that to the best of his abilities. 

It had been six weeks into their relationship when Carla had come downstairs one morning, and she had leaned against the kitchen counter with crossed arms and raised eyebrows as Anders re-filled the coffee maker.

_“Something on your mind?” He asked._   
_She chuckled. “I was just wondering about that box in the bathroom, you know?”_   
_“Box?” Anders switched the machine back on. “What box?”_   
_“The one under the sink. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I was just looking for more toilet paper.”_   
_“Oh!” Anders chuckled and shook his head. “That box.”_   
_“Yes but... I mean...” She tilted her head. “I get the condoms, but the lube? I hope you don’t expect me to... I’m not into that, you know?”_   
_“Oh, don’t worry, neither am I.” Anders opened a cabinet and took out two cups. “That stuff is actually Russell’s.”_   
_“Your boy’s?” Carla laughed softly. “Why does he need rubbers and lube? Is he a fag?”_

_Anders’s hand froze in mid-air. He slowly turned around, that all too familiar feeling of hot anger and disappointment back, exactly where he remembered it._

_“Oh come on, Anders. I really don’t have a problem with that, you know?”_  
 _“I am not particularly fond of your choice of words, is all,” Anders said slowly._  
 _“Choice of words?” Carla tilted her head the other way. “Because I said fag?”_  
 _“I personally find it quite insulting,” Anders replied. “So I’d prefer if you don’t use it._ ”  
 _“Insulting?” She chuckled, then cleared her throat. “Okay, I apologize. Really, I mean it. So what should I call him then?”_

_Anders put the cups down and narrowed his eyes. “You could call him Russell, to start with. He is my boy, I know, but he does have a name.”_   
_Carla narrowed her eyes as well. “Aren’t you getting a bit overprotective?”_   
_“Over...?” Anders crossed his arms. “Am I being protective when I want you to treat my son with respect though he’s not here right now?”_   
_“I didn’t know I was being disrespectful.”_   
_“You called him a fag.”_   
_“I didn’t mean it that way!”_

_They stared at each other for a moment._

_“Okay...” Carla took a deep breath. “I am sorry, okay? I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”_   
_Anders felt a bit of the tension leave him._   
_“But I still think he should keep those things in his room.”_   
_The tension was back. “Why? Is the sight of condoms and lube too much for your sensibilities?”_   
_“You know it isn’t!”_   
_“Then why do you keep on making such a bloody fuss about it?” Anders uncrossed his arms and took the filled cup, but instead of handing it to her he put it onto the counter._

_“I am not making a fuss. I am just...” She broke off with an exasperated sigh._  
 _“Just?” Anders pressed the button rather forcefully and watched the coffee dribble into the cup. “Just what? If the fact that my son is gay makes you feel so uncomfortable then..._ ”  
 _“This is not about your son,” Carla cut in._  
 _“It’s not?” Anders turned around. “Do you have a problem with me then, because I am totally okay with my son’s sexual orientation? What is it you want, Carla?”_  
 _“You,” she said with a smile that was clearly meant conciliatory and calming, and she reached out and ran a hand down his front._

_Anders took a deep breath and lowered his voice again. “I know that Russ is about to move out now that he’s almost eighteen, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s my son. I still come as a part of a package deal, Carla. You can’t make me a part of your life and expect me to pretend I don’t have a homosexual son.”_  
 _“I didn’t say that!”_  
 _“Well you sure as fuck act like it!_ ”

It had been their last conversation. After Carla had left that afternoon, they had never seen each other again.

* * *

“Christ, Anders.” Christine put a bottle of beer down before him and sat down again with her own. “Sometimes I think you’re jinxed.”

Anders took the bottle, closed both hands around it and shrugged. “Serves me right, I guess. Every time I tell myself that this was the last time, and every time I end up doing it again.”  
Christine leaned forward and closed her hands around Anders’s. “You just want something that...”  
“And I can’t stop acting like a greedy kid about it, grabbing at everything that’s...”  
“Bullshit.” Christine shook her head. “Stop talking crap like that about yourself, Anders.”  
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t spend the last twelve years stumbling from one relationship disaster into the next.”  
“And neither did you.”

Anders looked up and met her eyes for the first that day.

“Yes, there were disasters, but not that many. I know it feels that way. I’ve been through a phase like that myself before I gave up.”  
“At least you were able to give up!” Anders took a sip of his beer and closed his eyes. “I just keep on acting like a fly on a window pane!”  
“Anders,” Christine said with a sigh.   
Anders stared grimly at his bottle. 

At that moment the door to Emma’s room flew open and she came running out, slinging a bag over her shoulder.

“Bye Mum! Bye Anders!”

Anders managed a smile as he waved at her. She had developed a very creative way of dressing and her short hair always looked like a bed-head, in a way that bespoke of meticulous grooming. She reminded him a bit of Stacey fifteen years ago, only much more cheerful. But if Anders hadn’t known her as a kid, he would never have known what her hair colour was. Apparently this month, it was Hot Pink. 

There was a moment of silence after the door had closed behind her.

“Anders.” Christine said again and leaned forward. “You gotta stop thinking there’s something wrong with you.”  
Anders lifted both eyebrows.   
“I mean... it’s just unfair, that you always end up with the wrong woman, but... that’s it, I mean. It’s not you, it’s them! There is nothing wrong with you!”  
With a shrug, Anders took a sip of his beer.  
“Look. I know you don’t want that _She’s out there somewhere_ crap. I hated it too when someone told me that. And I won’t tell you to stop looking, or stop trying. I wish I could help you, I really do, but I don’t have a single clue.”

Anders shook his head. “I never... I just keep thinking back, you know. Hook-ups were that much easier. I just don’t get it.”  
“Get what?”  
“Why I suddenly felt the need to try dating. I mean... come on.” He looked up again. “I was...”  
“Yes, I know,” Christine cut in. “The man you were. But that was before Russ, you know? Pre-Russell Anders wouldn’t have given a shit. You, Anders, you... you’re a different man. And it’s not fair to yourself to compare yourself to the man you were before you became a father.”  
“Chris...” Anders exhaled heavily. “I don’t...”

“Look.” Christine took one of his hands. “You said you want what your brothers have. And it just makes me both angry and sad that you always end up with the wrong woman. And no, don’t say anything about being a father now. You being a single dad has nothing to do with how women have treated you.”  
“But what... what is it that went wrong all the time? What am I supposed to do?”  
Christine shrugged. “I don’t know... Change your dating scene?”  
Anders looked up very slowly.   
“I mean...” She shrugged again, a somewhat apologetic smile on her face. “Not the nightclub scene?”

“Chris.” Anders shook his head with a smile. “I met a few really gorgeous women through work, and through Russell’s school. Most of them were taken, and the one who wasn’t... well. She didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”  
“No way.” Christine crossed her arms onto the table. “What a stupid bitch.”  
“Yeah.”  
“I really want to beat some sense into her head.”  
At that, Anders chuckled. “Be my guest.”

Their eyes met, and they both simultaneously started laughing.

* * *

_The first time after the accident that Christine and Anders had seen each other was right after the funeral, as they left the cemetery. They had exchanged a forced smile and had gone separate ways without speaking a word._

_After kicking himself in the arse several times for several weeks Anders finally managed to call her. Her voice sounded wary._

_“Anders?”_   
_“Hey.” Anders cleared his throat. “I was wondering... I was... I would like to talk to you.”_   
_“Talk.” She sounded doubtful now._   
_He took a deep breath. “Yes, talk. I just... It's not what you think. I won't beg you to reconsider. I just... I gotta talk to you, okay? Is that possible?”_

_“Okay,” Christine said after a small pause. “Okay. When, and where?”_   
_“Whenever it's okay for you. I could come over with Russ after school and the two could play and we could talk.”_   
_“That actually sounds like a plan.” Her voice held a small smile. “How about tomorrow?”_   
_“Great. See you tomorrow.”_

_Anders felt rather anxious about seeing her again. But he just had all those things he needed to get off his chest. Russell's excitement about the visit to Emma's helped him through the nervousness that was gnawing at him on the way there._

_Russell was gone with Emma as soon as he had kicked off his shoes and the two vanished into Emma's room. Christine offered Anders a coffee, and the two of them sat down at the dining table, facing each other._

_“Okay,” Anders finally managed after he had almost finished the cup in silence. “I want to... actually...” He looked up and took a deep breath. “I want to apologize.”_   
_“Apologize?” Christine tilted her head with a confused frown. “What for?”_   
_“For... how I went at you in the hospital.”_   
_“Oh.”_

_Anders cleared his throat several times and finally, forced himself to look at her. She was looking back with a look of mild confusion._

_“See,” he began. “The way I talked to you...”_   
_“That was the stress talking, Anders. I never held it against you.”_   
_“Not?” Anders raised his eyebrows. “Really?”_   
_“No.” Christine shook her head. “I mean... sure, it wasn't nice to be yelled at that way. But really... as you said. You were about to lose your son. I doubt that I would have been able to keep my head if it had been Emma.”_

_Anders stared into his cup. “See the problem was...” He emptied the cup and licked his lips. “I wouldn't have... I think I wouldn't have lost my shit that way if you hadn't...”_   
_“Hugged you?”_   
_“Yes.” He shrugged. “When you... when you touched my face it felt as if...”_   
_“As if I was trying to hit on you? Being importunate? Or invading your personal space?”_   
_“The... all of them, to be perfectly honest.”_

_Christine gave him a long, calculating look. “Oh Anders,” she sighed after a moment. “I am sorry too for making you feel that way.”_   
_“I don't... You don't have to apologize. You only wanted to help.”_   
_“Yes, but I went at it the wrong way.”_

_After a moment, both of them looked up simultaneously and their eyes met._

_“You know,” Christine began. “I really shouldn't have done that, considering you got a brush-off not so long ago. But I wasn't really thinking straight either. Emma was throwing a fit. She was in tears, and she was crying so hard that she was about to throw up again. So, I'm really sorry. I offer you my apology as well.”_   
_Anders managed a smile. “Apologies exchanged.”_   
_“Apologies exchanged.” Smiling, Christine got up. “More coffee?”_   
_“Yes, please.”_

_The atmosphere between them was decidedly more relaxed as they settled down with their second coffee._

_“So.” Christine folded her arms onto the table. “How's Russ doing with the cast and all?”_   
_“He's doing splendid. The only help he needs by now is cutting food and tying shoelaces. Though that's settled because I bought him a pair of trainers with Velcro.”_   
_“Do you know when it'll come off?”_   
_“We have an appointment for another X-ray Friday afternoon. If we're lucky, it'll come off then.”_   
_“Something to look forward to.” She smiled and took a sip of coffee. “I guess he will need a lot of PT after that.”_   
_“He will.” Anders ran his finger along the rim of the cup. “But he's determined to get this over with. He recently declared that as soon as the cast is off, he's going to learn to play guitar.”_   
_“A boy with ambitions.”_   
_“Yes, and the stubbornness to match them. I told him he'll need therapy for the arm before he can even think of starting, and he looked at me as if he was about to murder me.”_

_Christine laughed and shook her head. “He sure is something.”_   
_“Oh yes, he is.”_   
_“And you love him for it.”_   
_Anders's smile softened. “Yeah... I mean... We had kind of a rough start, but in the end...”_

_“Hell yes, what with his mother having died and everything,” Christine said after a moment. “God, I can't even imagine how hard that must have been for you.”_   
_“You mentioned that before,” Anders replied with a little smile._   
_“I know.” She shook her head. “I just... I still think it's amazing. And you're an impressive and admirable man.”_   
_“Not admirable enough to date, though,” Anders gave back, but with a wink. By now, he had come to terms with the fact that his crush wasn't returned, and it had gotten better. Decidedly._

_Christine slowly lifted one eyebrow._  
 _“I was just shitting you.”_  
 _“Really?”_   
_“Yeah, you know...” He shrugged and took a sip of coffee. “A lot of people can't handle my sense of humour so I'm kinda used to it.”_  
 _“To what?”_  
 _“Folks getting it wrong.”_  
 _Christine chuckled. “Maybe I can get used to that.”_  
 _“Why would you?”_  
 _“Because I like you very much, Anders. And I think that by now, we could be friends.”_

_Anders took a rather large sip of coffee. “I don't...”_   
_“What?” Her smile vanished. “I'm sorry, did I... I did it again, didn't I?”_   
_“No!” Anders hurried to say. “I was just... I was about to say that I never...”_   
_“Had a friend before?”_   
_“Well. Not that many. Just... no... lady friend?”_   
_“No female friend, you mean.”_   
_“Or that, yeah.”_

_Christine smiled again and reached out to take his hands. “I think... honestly... I think we both could benefit from each other much more as friends than as lovers.”_   
_“Think so?”_   
_“I do,” she replied firmly._   
_“Well.”_

_Anders looked at their joined hands and tried to identify and sort out his feelings. It didn't feel half bad, though. And he really seemed to be over her now, because holding her hand was nice... but nothing more._

_At that moment, the door to Emma's room opened and the two children came running out, giggling like idiots._   
_Emma must have gathered every single hairclip she possessed, and they had distributed them evenly between the two of them._

_“We're pretty!” Emma giggled._   
_Russell grinned broadly. “Dad, look! It's long enough for hairclips!”_

_Barely so, but still. Anders had to smile too, and the two vanished into Emma's room again, still giggling_

_“You know,” Christine said thoughtfully after a moment. “I know a lot of fathers who would have thrown a fit, or at least made their displeasure known in no uncertain terms.”_   
_“About what?” Anders tilted his head._   
_“About their son wearing pink hairclips.”_   
_“Oh, yeah... right, but... what the hell. If he thinks it's funny...” Anders shrugged. “And it's not as if his testicles fall off just because he wears pink hairclips once in a blue moon.”_

_Christine laughed again. “You know Anders, I like you even more now.”_   
_“Still not enough to date me?”_   
_She lifted her eyebrows._   
_“Friends with benefits?” Anders offered._

_Their eyes met._

_After a moment, they both snorted and started to chuckle._

* * *

“I'd appreciate any more suggestions,” Anders said with a crooked little smile.  
“About another dating scene?”  
He shrugged and took a sip of beer.  
“Maybe you could start some evening classes?”  
“What?” Anders wiped a drop of beer from his chin. He had put down the bottle a bit too quickly. “Like what? Ikebana? Yoga?”  
“Cooking?” Christine smiled. “You could apply for a teacher position for that one.”  
“Yes, and deal with groups of middle aged housewives who look for a new meaning of life after their kids have left the house.”

“Speaking of,” Christine said after a pause. “How is it, without Russ?”  
“Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic. I got about a third of the laundry now, have no hairs in the shower to clean up and I can drink what I want when I want because I don't have to set a good example.”  
Christine lifted her eyebrows.  
Anders shrugged and his smile vanished. “It's also pretty lonely. At least we managed to get shit out of the way before he left.”  
“What kind of shit?” She asked, sounding slightly worried.  
“You know, that letter, and everything. I think it would've been nothing short of a disaster if that had come up a few days before he was due to leave.”  
“Oh right, Christ.” She shook her head. “I don't even want to think about it.”

Anders shrugged again and stared at his bottle.

“Hey.” Christine took his hands, and Anders looked up into her smiling face. “You are always welcome, you know, when the house is too empty.”  
“Thanks.” Anders managed a smile at that. “Will probably take you up on that offer quite often.”  
“Please do.”

They finished their beer in companionable silence. Before Anders left, they kissed each other's cheeks, left and right, and then hugged fiercely, holding on to each other for a while. Without letting go of her hips, Anders leaned back and they looked at each other for another long moment with their faces only inches apart. 

Then they both simultaneously started to chuckle that turned into a laugh as they stepped away from each other.


	12. Chapter 12

After the thing with Carla, Anders steered clear of clubs for the time being. Not only because he didn’t want run into another potential disaster, but also because he simply didn’t feel like it. The thought of putting on a suit and order a taxi... it just wasn't worth the hassle.

Occasionally, though, he popped by in Mike’s bar, because the evenings at home were sometimes all too silent; a silence no amount of TV or internet could dispel.

True to his word, Mike no longer asked him about the progress of his relationships and never mentioned Christine in that context again either. But Anders discovered during those weeks that no matter how much the break-up with Carla had hurt him, even though it had only been six weeks, the absence of Russell hurt him more. Only, there was no one with whom he could have talked about this. The oldest of his nieces and nephews was ten and although Axl moving out must have felt like this to Mike, or somewhat like it, Anders was always reluctant to pick up the topic of kids with his older brother. 

Mike had never quite gotten over the fact he was never to have kids himself, and his relationship with Michelle had suffered a few minor earthquakes because of it, during the first two years after Russell’s arrival. In the end, Mike had finally accepted he would never be a father, but there was no denying that occasionally, you could see the longing in his eyes when he played or joked with his nieces and nephews. 

It was the same kind of longing that Anders felt when he looked at Dawn and Ty, married for thirteen years now and still in love, enough so that they could be found secretly snogging in a corner and giggling like teenagers when found out. 

Both of it was quite apparent on Mike’s birthday, when both men were watching the ongoing around them in Ty’s and Dawn’s house – a bar had been considered inadequate surroundings for a birthday party when small children were around – and both of them stood in silence next to each other with their beers.

They were both more or less inconspicuously watching Axl and Hanna, for different reasons, but with longing all the same. Axl and Hanna were smiling at each other while Hanna caressed her swelling belly, and Axl leaned over the bulge and pressed a kiss onto it. Hanna chuckled and ran a hand through Axl’s hair.

Simultaneously, Mike and Anders realised that they were staring, and that the other was, too. They cast a look at each other from the corners of their eyes and emptied their bottles.

“Another?” Mike asked.  
Anders nodded.

They then retreated towards the small coffee table under the window, at the other end of the room, and proceeded to get thoroughly drunk in silent companionship.

* * *

After a taxi had taken him home, Anders managed to unlock the door with a little difficulty and staggered inside, mind still pleasantly fogged. He decided against a raid of the fridge in search for more vodka, though, and crawled upstairs. He had just freed himself from the shirt when his phone rang and dropped everything, almost making a nose-dive while hastily reaching for it. He fell backwards onto the bed.

 _“Hey Dad!”_  
“Hey Russ!” Anders wiggled to adjust his position. “How’s it going?”  
_“Brilliant!”_ Russell seemed to turn around in bed, by the sound of it. _“You know what happened today?”_  
“No,” Anders said and tried to suppress a yawn. “Do tell.”  
_“Oh shit, Dad...”_ A pause. _“I didn’t think of the time...”_  
“Don’t worry, I just came home.”  
_“At three in the morning?”_  
“Aaw, Mum!”  
Anders could _hear_ Russell's eyes roll. _“Dad...”_  
“Sorry, I might be a little tipsy. Was Mike’s birthday today.”  
_“Aw Shit! I fucked it up again! Stupid fucking time zones!”_  
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”  
_“Dad!!”_  
“Try calling him now, he’s probably still awake. He was discussing philosophical questions with Olaf when I left.”  
_“What the fuck?”_  
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”  
_“Okay...”_  
“Anyway.” Anders rolled onto his stomach. “What happened today?”

Russell took a deep breath. _“See, I met... someone.”_  
Anders felt a grin spread on his face. “Is he hot?”  
_“Dad...”_  
“What?”  
_“I... dunno.”_ Russell heaved an uncomfortable sigh. _“I just... I mean, I know he’s... he’s gay too, I mean... I told my mates here that I’m gay, and they pointed him out to me, and he’s really nice, and cool, and he’s a real Viking, like... tall, and with long hair and a beard... though it’s more of a goatee, really, and...”_ He broke off into a helpless silence.

“Russ?”  
_“Dad...”_ He swallowed, audible even over the phone. _“How... I mean... how do I...”_  
Anders rolled onto his back again and forced his brain into focus. “How to pick him up?”  
_“I don’t know what to say to him!”_  
“Russell...” Anders tried to keep the smile from his voice. “I actually... you know, shouldn’t a seventeen year old bloke ask his mates about that?”  
_“But none of them are gay!”_  
“Well I’m sure as fuck ain’t gay either,” Anders replied with a chuckle. “But I’m humbled by the level of trust.”  
_“Dad...”_  
“Let me think.”

Anders blinked at the ceiling.

“Have you spoken to him at all yet?”  
_“I... uhm. Just... you know. Small talk.”_  
“So I guess the fact that you’re gay as well hasn’t come up yet?”  
_“...no...”_  
“Then try this.” Anders cleared his throat. “Next time you meet, and are actually already engaged in a conversation, bring up the topic that you’re from the other end of the world and would like some advice for going out. Then ask if he knows where you could meet nice boys.”  
A heavy silence was his only answer.  
“And then you add that preferably, as nice as he is. You’ll know instantly if that interest is returned or not.”

 _“Wow,”_ Russell said after a moment. _“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”_  
“I hope it works, Russ. I really do. I never tried that particular technique in that direction. For apparent reasons.”  
_“But it sounds cool... I just need the guts for it.”_  
“Think of the worst thing that could happen.”  
_“He... uhm... he wouldn’t... want to talk to me anymore? I’m sure he wouldn’t beat the crap out of me for trying to hit on him.”_  
“Then what do you have to lose?”  
There was another long pause, but by the sound of it Russell was smiling again. _“Thanks, Dad. You’re the best dad ever.”_  
“Then maybe the next _Awesome Dad Award_ should include the equivalent of an Oscar or something.”  
Russell snorted and then laughed. _“I’ll text Emma about it.”_  
“We’ll wait with the ceremony until you’re home.”

They chatted for a bit, about Russell’s host family and his progress in school, and after ending the call, Anders closed his eyes and took a deep, heavy breath. But he was smiling. The mental image of Russell standing next to a tall, blonde, long haired Viking was just too precious. 

That his son was about to start dating was making feel Anders even older. But for some reason, it also cheered him up.

* * *

The next few weeks passed uneventfully, the most exciting event being that Chloe had insisted her parents call Uncle Andy to inform him that she had lost her first tooth. Remembering Russell and his excitement about that particular event, Anders kept a straight face, was duly impressed and assured her that no, the tooth fairy would absolutely not forget her. 

Smiling a little to himself, Anders put down the phone and focussed back on his work. With Russell growing up, he had started to work on weekends again, and now, there was no point in giving himself too much free time. It only led to him getting depressed about his age, the progress of his life, or the lack thereof, and his inability to do something about his relationship status. 

Anders realised that he was having a midlife-crisis right out of the textbook.

He wondered if Mike had gone through something similar, as he had been about Anders's age when Val had left him and he had changed business, turned from builder to barkeeper. Not that Anders wanted to change his job. He loved his job. He had build J:PR from scratch and had quite the reputation by now; he even had employed the occasional temp for the larger projects.

He tried not to think. He had a new campaign to launch.

Another week passed, without the loss of any teeth this time, and on Thursday evening Anders called Russell to make sure he caught him before he had to go to school.

Russell's phone was switched off. With a disappointed frown, Anders stared at his phone and tried again half an hour later. The phone was still switched off and again, went straight to voice mail.

Anders set his alarm to four in the morning, but the phone was still switched off. He finally left a voice mail, telling his son that he would really, really like to congratulate him on his eighteenth birthday. 

By now Anders was a little miffed that Russell wasn’t taking any calls on his birthday. He kept on trying every half hour until Russell's birthday was over, without having spoken to him. He left another voice mail, this time telling his son in no uncertain terms exactly what he felt about him being so unavailable on his birthday. But he couldn't help adding that he was a tiny bit worried and please, could he call him back?

Anders went through that Friday constantly staring at his phone. He knew that the next week were autumn holidays, and he wondered if Russell had just taken off somewhere with a few mates to celebrate and do things guys his age would do. 

Russell didn't get back to him on Saturday, either. And when his phone finally rang that evening, Anders saw a number on the display that he didn't know, but that started with a country code that wasn't New Zealand. It had to be Norway. It had to be Russ.

Anders hadn't even realised how worried he had become during the last two days. A glance at the time told him that up there, it was mid-morning.

“Anders Johnson.”  
He had never heard the women's voice before and felt his stomach clench. _“Mr Johnson?”_ She had a bit of an accent, but she was fluent. _“Russell's father, right? I am Ingvild Haakonsson, his host mother.”_  
Anders felt his stomach clench. “Yes. I've been trying to get in touch with him.”  
_“So did we.”_ She cleared her throat. _“I'm sorry to burden you with this, Mr Johnson. But I thought... if it was my son, I would want to know. He hasn't been home since Thursday morning. He went in school and didn't come back.”_  
Anders didn't know what to reply. His head was swimming.  
_“We spoke to the police this morning,”_ she went on. _“I hoped he was in touch with you.”_  
“No, he hasn't called me either,” Anders replied tonelessly.

 _“I am sorry,”_ she said again. _“I know you must be worried sick now, but I couldn't... I thought you had to know.”_  
“I... thank you. Yes... I would rather...”  
_“You can be sure on that we will call you, as soon as we hear anything. And please, you can call us when you want.”_  
“Thank you.” 

They made their farewell, after Mrs Haakonson had assured Anders several times more that she would inform him of every little change. 

Anders left the bed after that and spent the remainder of the night alternately pacing through the house or sitting at the dining table, hunched over with his arms crossed at the back of his neck. And as soon as he could, he headed for Mike's bar, almost missing a red light on the way because his mind was a complete and utter mess. 

Opening the door wearing boxers and a crumpled T-shirt, and his hair still messed up, Mike stared at him for a moment, but his facial expression turned quickly from tired annoyance to a worried frown as he let him in and they headed upstairs. 

Michelle was just tying her bathrobe. 

“What the fuck, Anders?”  
“Sorry,” he said tonelessly and fell into the nearest chair.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”  
“Russell's gone.”

Mike and Michelle froze and exchanged a look of dismay.

“What?” Mike stepped beside Anders and put a hand on his shoulder. “Anders?”  
“He... I was trying to call him, on his birthday. His phone was switched off. And then... last night...” Anders ran both hands down his face. He was about to lose it. “His host mother called, telling me he hasn't been home since he left for school Thursday morning.”

“Shit.” Mike looked at Michelle again. “And... I mean... he might just be out partying with mates...”  
“He might.” Anders shook his head. “But to just switch off his phone when... he knew I would want to call him on his birthday! It just isn't like him to do that!”  
“Okay, keep it down.” Mike pulled over a chair and sat down. “I know it's not like him to just go out partying and forget everything else... but he might have lost his phone, or the charger, or something like that.”  
“Then why didn't he call me? He knew I wanted to talk to him! There is a land line in that house, for fuck's sake!”

Mike shook his head with a shrug. Michelle shrugged as well and then headed for the kitchen to make coffee. 

Anders kept staring at the phone in his hands. He almost had a heart attack when it suddenly rang.

Russell's name was displayed as the caller ID; Anders jumped out of the chair and almost dropped the phone as he accepted the call.

“What the fuck, Russ?” He pressed the phone to his ear. “What is wrong with you? Where have you been? Russ, I was worried sick when your host mother called and told me you hadn't been home!”

The other end remained ominously silent.

Anders voice started shaking. “Russell?”

 _“Not Russell,”_ a male voice finally answered, and Anders felt the ground under him began to sway. He fell back into the chair. 

Both Mike and Michelle came hurrying to his side. 

“Who are you?” Anders rasped. “What did you do to my son?”  
_“Nothing yet,”_ was the reply, the voice grating and deep, the accent so heavy it was difficult to understand him. Anders had heard similar voices before, and he felt his stomach turn.  
“What do you want?” Anders asked, voice trembling and almost giving out.

 _“We want you,”_ the voice said, and with the next word, Anders felt the world around him turn into an ice-cold fog. _“Bragi.”_


	13. Chapter 13

Anders pressed the phone to his ear, eyes closed and sweat beading on his temples. 

“What do you want?” His voice was hardly audible.  
 _“You,”_ the rough and gravelly voice replied. _“But take him also.”_  
“Don’t...” Anders got up again, eyes closed. “Please... Where are you? I’m coming... I will come. Wherever you are. Please...”  
 _“You know where we be.”_  
“Norway?”  
 _“Yes. We found son in Trondheim. We waiting for you.”_

“Please...” Anders got up and nervously licked his lips. “You know that I’m literally on the other side of the world, yes? Even if I get on a plane right now, I’d still be thirty hours at least, and I can’t... I don’t know if I can get a ticket for today, or even tomorrow...” His voice broke with the last word.  
 _“One week.”_  
“I’ll be there,” Anders whispered. “I’ll be there. Please don’t... can I speak to him? Can I please speak to my son?”

There was some rustling, and Anders was clutching his phone like a life saver, eyes pinched shut and a trickle of sweat running down his cheek. Mike and Michelle had cautiously stepped a little closer, both of them looking at Anders with pale and anxious faces.

_“Dad?”_ Russell’s voice was small, faint, and he sounded more confused than afraid.  
“Russell.” Anders gulped down some air and tried to keep his voice calm, with meagre success. “I’m coming, okay? I’m coming for you.”  
 _“Dad, who are these people?”_  
“No time to explain,” Anders gave back in a husky voice. “Listen to me, Russ. You have to do as they say, okay? Do you understand? Don’t try to be smart. Don’t try to negotiate. Keep your head down, do as they say, do you hear me?”  
 _“Dad, I...”_

Russell’s voice faded out, and the other, deep and gravelly voice was back. 

_“Remember. A week, Bragi. Then we take blood of son.”_  
Anders stared straight ahead, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, unable to find words.  
 _“Call again you be at Trondheim Airport.”_  
“I will but please... don’t hurt him! I’m coming and whatever it is you want... please don’t hurt...”

The call was ended. 

Anders sank to his knees and the phone slid out of his nerveless, trembling fingers. Mike lowered himself down beside him and draped an arm around Anders’s shoulders.

“Anders?”  
“They have my son,” Anders whispered tonelessly, staring blindly at nothing. “They have Russell...”  
“Who has him?”  
“The giants,” Anders replied, voice trembling. “The giants have my son...”

* * *

It was shortly after noon when, after a quick round-up, all the former gods and goddesses were gathered in Anders’s house. After everyone had settled down in the living room – the three sofas arranged in a U-shape were more comfortable than all of them squeezed around the dining table – and Mike had handed out cups of coffee and tea, a heavy silence fell over the room. Anders sat hunched over, hands clamped between his knees, and Ty was sitting next to him with an arm around his shoulders.

“So.” Olaf leaned back and crossed his legs. “Can we recap all that? Giants? The giants have Russ?”  
Mike sighed, his mouth a thin line. “That’s what Anders said. He hasn’t said anything else since that fucking phone call.”  
“Anders?” Olaf leaned forward again. “What did they say? And what makes you so sure it’s the giants and not the god hunters?” 

Ty increased the pressure of his arm around Anders’s shoulders. It still took a few moments until the latter finally lifted his head again.

“They knew who I am. Or who I was, rather.” Anders still stared straight ahead, looking at no one. “Knew I was Bragi. Or maybe they think I still am. That’s what they called me. Bragi. But if it were the god hunters they’d have... have killed him and send others to come here and finish off the rest of us.”

The former gods and goddesses exchanged a lot of wary looks.

“They told me they have him, but that they want me. They want...” He broke off and covered his face in his hands.   
“Andy?” Ty leaned closer.  
“I don’t... I don’t have a fucking clue how they knew who he was. But they know who I am. It doesn’t...” Anders dropped his hands again and shook his head. “I have a week to get to Trondheim. And...” A tremor ran through his whole body. “If I don’t make it, they said... they said they...”   
Ty leaned closer, holding on tighter. “Anders...”  
“They say they take his blood instead of mine.” It was a dry and lifeless whisper.

The faces around him turned pale and grin.

“Blood?” Mike narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck...”  
“Bastards,” Michelle muttered under her breath.  
“But that is terrible!” Ingrid blinked hastily. “We have to do something!”

“You...” Anders looked up, face pale and eyes burning. “You keep the fuck out of this! You are doing nothing! I go there, and everything else is...”  
“Anders...” Axl folded his hands between his knees as he leaned forward. “We can’t just let them...”  
“Let them what?” Anders met his eyes. “Axl, I don’t... I want... I’m going there, and see to it that they let Russell go when they have me.”  
“And what makes you think they’ll do that?” Axl gave back with a frown. “They’re giants, they won’t keep their word.”

“That...” Olaf said slowly “...is probably the sad and scary truth.”  
“I gotta take that risk,” Anders muttered. “Because they sure as fuck won’t let Russ go if I don’t hand myself in.”  
“But...” Stacey leaned forward. “You’d think that if he’s been kidnapped, the police would...”  
Anders interrupted her with a mirthless huff of breath. “I needed two weeks and Bragi’s powers to find even one of them.”  
“But they...” Stacey leaned back, crossed her arms and frowned. “Yeah, I know. Police work.”  
“And the police wouldn’t be helpful when it comes down to explaining what and who we’re dealing with, either,” Olaf cut in. “I think we’re on our own in this one.”  
“When were we ever not,” Michelle replied with a shake of her head.

“Right.” Olaf leaned back after a moment, a deep frown on his face. “But what can we actually do?”  
“Nothing.” Anders didn't look up. “No one is doing anything until Russell is back.”  
“Right, and what then?” Ty shook his head. “What if they kill you, Anders?”  
“Then...” Anders's face had gone a shade paler. “Then they won't kill him,” he said haltingly. 

They all cast looks around, into the faces of the others. No one knew what to say. 

“Okay,” Mike finally said into the uncomfortable silence. “Whatever happens, Anders, you won't be alone. You're not going there alone, either. We're coming with you.”  
Anders finally looked up. “I can't imagine...”  
“They didn't say you have to come to Norway alone, did they? They will want you to come alone when... for... the exchange. And until then, you won't be alone. And if there's even the slightest chance to get both of you out of there alive, then we will find it.”

Mike held his brother's gaze until Anders looked down again, then he got up. 

“I suggest we keep it in the family. No one can say anything to Anders taking his brothers with him. The rest of you, keep your eyes open on the home front. We had dealings with giants before here in Auckland.”  
“You think that's how they knew who Russell is?” Ty asked, deep furrows forming on his forehead.   
“Fuck if I know,” Mike replied. “We can't rule it out, though. So.” He looked at Michelle. “ Maybe you should even ask Gunderson. That bastard has eyes everywhere.”  
“He's not going to lift a finger for us, you know.” Michelle crossed her arms. “Not without some sort of payment.”  
“Then tell him I owe him.” Mike took a deep breath. “Tell him I pay him when I'm back. Under his conditions.”

“You know you're selling your soul to the devil, Mike,” Olaf said slowly.  
“That's a risk I gotta take,” Mike replied. “The giants know about us. They have been in Auckland. For all we know there might still be some of them around. And just think of this.” He paused to look at everyone, one after another. “Russell was never a god. He would never have been a god. His mother was a mortal. But the same goes for Ty's girls.”  
Ty's face lost all colour.  
“And Axl and Hanna... your kids have two former gods as parents. If those fuckers think they have some sort of debt to settle, then we have to be prepared. We gotta protect our family.”

Stacey took a deep breath. “I know I'm technically not family but... fuck that. I'm in. Whatever that means.”   
“Of course we are,” Ingrid added with a serious expression. “We're all a family. Not in blood, maybe, but we've stuck together for so long now, we might as well be.”  
Hanna rested one hand on her belly and nodded. “We do what we can, Mike. Between the five of us, we give them a bitch fight like they've never seen before, if we have to.”  
Michelle crossed her arms with that borderline obnoxious smirk of hers. 

“Great,” Mike said and nodded. “And now we better get those tickets sorted.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. 

Anders lifted his head as if it weighed a ton, but Michelle got up and gestured at him to remain seated. “I'll get that.”   
Anders laboured onto his feet nonetheless. “Gonna get my laptop. Get the tickets sorted and then...”

“What the fuck are you doing here, you twat?” 

All heads turned towards the entrance door as they heard Michelle's angry snarl.

“I was in the area and wanted to say hello!”

Hearing that voice, Anders spun around and marched towards the door. 

“The fuck do you want, you fucking piece of shit? You are the last person on earth I need right now, you stupid fucking arsehole!”  
“Nice to see you too, Anders,” Johan gave back, completely unimpressed by the fury radiating from his second son.   
“I can guarantee you that feeling is entirely not mutual, you fucker! Get out of my house and get out of my sight!”

Johan ignored him for the moment and, craning his neck, noticed the other ex-gods and ex-goddesses filing out of the living room. “Sorry, did I interrupt a party?”  
“I said, get the fuck out,” Anders hissed.  
“Just fuck off,” Mike said. “We really got other problems to deal with.”  
“Like what?” Johan looked from one son to the other. “Maybe I can help?”  
“What? An outbreak of family feelings? What do you want?” Axl crossed his arms. 

“Listen.” Johan lowered his head for a second and looked up again. “I was in the area and wanted to see you. I know we're not on the best of terms...”  
“I think I told you to fuck off twice already,” Anders interrupted him coldly.  
“And I wanted to say goodbye to my sons.”

“Goodbye?” Axl said flatly.  
“Well.” Johan shrugged with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “At my age the grim reaper is lurking around. So, I can't really say if I just drop dead at one point of if the cancer gets me first, it doesn't really make a difference.”  
“Good, keeps you out of my hair,” Anders snapped.  
“Boy...”  
“I'm not your...”  
“You're my son...”  
“Great timing for remembering it.” Anders crossed his arms as well. “What do you expect, then? A fucking hug?”

“Anders,” Mike said. “Just go upstairs and start sorting out the tickets. We deal with that here.”  
“Right.” Anders rolled his shoulders and hurried up the stairs.

“Nice house,” Johan remarked as he looked around. “Who lives here, apart from Anders?”  
“His son,” Mike replied. “And he's...”  
Johan's eyes went wide as saucers. “What the actual fuck?” He asked with an incredulous chuckle. “Anders? A father?”  
“It happened kind of...” Ty looked at Mike with a sudden frown. “It's not really his business, is it?”  
“Well, he would be my grandson so I think it might be,” Johan replied cautiously.

There was a moment of strained silence.

“Anders got a paternity order twelve years ago,” Mike finally said. “Turned out one of his flings had some unintended consequences. Turned also out that she had been using him as a sperm donor and needed him to clean up the mess she left. Died of cancer, left a five year old boy.”  
“And Anders...”  
“Anders turned out to be a better man and a better father than you.”   
“That's harsh.”   
“That's the fucking truth.” Mike glared at him. “And now fuck off again, we got our own problems right now.”  
“Like... please.” Johan's eyes were actually pleading. “I'd like to meet him. Please?”

Mike and Ty exchanged a look, then both looked at Axl who shrugged.

“He's not here,” Axl finally said. “He went abroad for two terms and... and... now the giants found him and want...”  
“Giants?” Johan blinked a few times. “Fucking giants? What do they want with the lad?”  
“Actually,” Axl replied. “Actually, they want Anders.”  
“What the fuck for?”  
“We don't know. They called Anders today, using Russell's phone.”  
“Russell?”  
“The son, or grandson, we've been talking about,” Ty cut in. “Idiot.”

Johan cleared his throat. “So... the giants have... Russell, and they actually want Anders? What for?”  
“They didn't say.” Mike shrugged. “We don't know. But Anders has a week to get to Trondheim to exchange himself for Russ. They mentioned something about using Russell's blood instead of his if he doesn't show up in time.”  
“Fucking hell,” Johan breathed. “Trondheim?”  
“Ever been there?” Axl asked.  
“Was I ever.” Johan smiled crookedly. “I've spent a few years working on Norwegian oil rigs, you know. I know about the giants up there. Mean, ugly lot.”

“You actually met Norwegian giants,” Mike said after a small, pregnant pause.  
“They sure as fuck can hold their drinks,” Johan replied. “Though I wouldn't want to cross them.”  
“Which is exactly what is going to happen,” Ty said darkly.  
“You know...” Johan rolled his shoulders. “Maybe I should come, too. Maybe I could help him?”  
“What could you possibly help us with?” Axl asked. “Drink them under the table?”  
“I know how they tick,” Johan replied “I know how to talk to them.”

Several more worried looks were exchanged. 

“What do you have to lose?” Johan asked after a moment.  
“Anders's shit,” Mike gave back drily.   
“I think he'd grab every straw by now,” Johan said. 

Mike cast a very doubtful look up the stairs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I mentioned it before, but the twins are six years old.

Anders dragged both hands down his face and stood very still for a moment, eyes closed.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he finally said, his voice more tired than angry now.  
“Anders...” Mike rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know... I mean, I like the thought of taking him along as much as you do, but...”  
“I know!” Anders shook the hand off and gave his father a death stare.  
Johan tried to look unfazed.

“Anders,” Ty said and looked back and forth between his father and his older brother. “I don’t like it either. No one does. But... it’s as he says. Maybe he sees something we don’t. Or can’t. Maybe he will...”  
“Okay okay I get it!” Anders ran both hands through his hair. “I fucking get it!”

After a moment he took a deep breath and exhaled heavily through his nose. Then he walked up to his father and looked into his eyes, fixing Johan with an unwavering gaze.

“You only know me as a pathetic little runt who kept his head down. A coward. I never stood up to you because I was afraid.” Then Anders narrowed his eyes. “But I swear if you touch my son, I will kill you.”  
Johan met Anders’s eyes with a slightly puzzled look.   
Anders leaned forward. “One slur, one word, and I swear...”  
“Jesus, Andy.” Johan took a step back. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, son. I’m coming along to help you.”  
“I can’t imagine that not being a god anymore somehow turned you into a better person, so...”  
“It certainly seemed to have worked with you.”  
“Yeah, I guess the _Being-A-Violent-Asshole-And-Rotten-Father_ -Gene skipped a generation too.”  
“Andy...”  
“Stop calling me that.” Anders stepped back again with a heavy sigh. “I know I am going to regret this.”

Johan was the first to look away, but it wasn’t quite clear if it really was because Anders won or if he let him win to not fan the flames. 

Anders rolled his shoulders and shook his head. “Right. I guess I need to buy another ticket, then.” Then he looked at Mike. “Take off is at six thirty pm on Tuesday.”  
“Okay.” Mike nodded. “That’s well within the week you’ve been given.”  
“Exactly,” Anders replied, but then his eyes unfocussed and his voice petered out.   
Mike draped one arm around Anders’s shoulders. “Come on. We get this sorted. We get both of you home again.

Anders stared straight ahead and didn’t reply.

* * *

Since Ty had filled Dawn in on the events after he had come home Sunday evening she wasn’t shocked, but she still couldn’t keep her tears at bay when she accepted the large envelope Anders handed her.

“I don’t want to do this,” she said and fumbled for a tissue in her pocket.  
“Neither do I,” Anders replied, looking down at the brown envelope containing the notarised paperwork that transferred ownership of J:PR to Dawn in case of Anders’s death. “But we talked about this before, Dawnsie.”

Dawn put the envelope down, rested her hand on it, and finally looked up again, biting her lips. Their eyes met.

“I don’t have a choice about this,” Anders said and pressed his lips together.  
“I know,” Dawn replied in a whisper. “But I wish we could pretend this wasn’t necessary.”  
“I can’t afford that, Dawn.” Anders shook his head. “I need this to be sorted for Russ when he comes back.”  
“Yes, sure.” Dawn tried to put on a brave face again. “But I don’t want to believe that you won’t come back as well.”

Anders shrugged and turned away, heading for his desk.

“If they want blood, Dawn, then they’re going to get it.” His voice was dead and dry. “The question is whose blood they take, whatever they need it for. And that’s the only thing that matters.” Anders looked up again and turned around. “It’s him or me, Dawn. What if it was Ruby?”  
“I know,” Dawn said again, her voice unsteady. “If it was Ruby I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. But that doesn’t make it any easier for me to...” 

She broke off with a helpless sob, and Anders hurried to her side and embraced her. 

“I’m not going to just...” Dawn hid her face in his shoulder. “I am going to wait for you to come back, and I refuse to believe you won’t come home. Not before...”  
“It’s okay, Dawnsie.” Anders ran a hand down her back. “I only wish I could share your optimism.”  
Dawn leaned back again and wiped her eyes. “Just... promise me you won’t give up just like that, okay?”  
“I don’t know what there is to not give up on, but if I find something, I will.”

Anders had a few other things to settle, so he left his office shortly after. He looked back at the door for a long moment with a very heavy heart. Then he adjusted his tie, and headed towards his bank.

* * *

There was little to pack. Anders packed toiletries and warm clothes and a thick and heavy parka, and he looked at that with a grim smile as he folded it. He had bought it for his first trip to Norway and it had sat forgotten in a dustproof bag at the back and bottom of the wardrobe for all those years. Next were the shoes, stylish but still keeping his feet warm; they that had taken him ages to find.

“Didn’t think I’d ever get to use you again,” he muttered before he closed the suitcase. 

Anders cast a long look back before he closed the door to his bedroom. Up until now, he had run on autopilot, going through everything that needed doing with only half a brain, the other half somewhere in the abysmal pit of worry and fear he had fallen into after the phone call Sunday morning. 

But now, as he was about to leave, it all came crashing down on him with frightening clarity.

There was no coming back.

The giants had his son, and they wanted his blood. There wasn’t even a guarantee that if Anders handed himself over, they would let Russell go, but that was his only chance. There was no negotiating with these creatures. Especially as long as they held Russell hostage. And after that...

Anders knew that he was a dead man walking. The giants wanted his blood, and they would take it. The only reason why he had allowed his brothers to accompany him was that he needed someone to take care of Russell and get him safely home. For himself, it was a one-way ticket. 

He had a last look around. Then he dug into the pocket of his jacket, took his key ring out and with a slow and hesitant move he put it down on the kitchen counter, his fingers trembling as he did so.

Then he wrenched himself away, spun around, and all but slammed the door shut behind him. Not two minutes later Mike and Michelle arrived to pick him up, and neither of them said a word to him as he fell into the backseat.

He hadn’t even looked at his fish. He was sure he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together if he had.

* * *

When they arrived at the airport, Axl and Hanna were already there and Axl was hugging his boys. Olaf and Johan were standing nearby and watched them. 

“Didn’t know I had so many grandchildren,” Johan said, his eyes going soft.  
“Wait until Ty and Dawn arrive,” Mike gave back and crossed his arms.   
“You mean there’s more?”

Before Mike could answer, Ty and Dawn rounded a corner, and Johan blinked a few times in surprise when he counted heads. 

“Three girls, two boys, well, and Russ, obviously, and another due to arrive soon... well I’ll be damned. You guys breed like rabbits!”  
“Since you have four yourself that we know of I guess it’s safe to say that it runs in the family,” Olaf gave back.  
“Seems like we didn’t get that trait from you.” Johan looked up at his father.  
Olaf glared down at him. “Brenda and I couldn’t have handled another of your kind.”  
“And what’s that supposed to mean, that we know of?” Johan crossed his arms. “How many did you knock up after Brenda died, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” Mike hissed before the situation could escalate. 

Johan put his duffle bag down and rolled his shoulders, then walked slowly over to the group of people.

The twin boys stopped arguing over a piece of lint that one of them had found and glanced warily up at him. 

“Hello,” Johan said with a broad smile.  
“Who are you?” They almost simultaneously asked.   
“That’s my father,” Olaf fell in and stepped closer too. “Your uncle Johan.”  
“Uncle Johan?” One of the twins asked.  
“Uncle...?” Johan needed a second for retaliation. “Yes. Yes, Uncle Johan. And you are?”  
“Lucas.”  
Johan looked at the other twin.  
“Liam.”  
“And how do they tell you apart?”

Lucas and Liam exchanged a look.

“Well, duh.” Liam said. “I’m Liam. That’s Lucas.”  
“Oh well that explains it then.” Johan straightened up again. “I guess.” 

He looked up at Hanna who had one hand resting on her belly and was watching him talk to her sons with narrowed eyes. Johan smiled and extended a hand to her.

“Johan Johnson. Pleased to meet you.”  
“Hanna Johnson,” Hanna replied without taking the offered hand.   
Johan looked at that hand and lowered it again.   
“Your reputation precedes you,” Hanna whispered coldly. “Stay away from my boys.”

Johan pressed his lips together and rolled his shoulders, bud didn’t say anything. Then he turned around and found himself look at Ty who had a bright and false grin on his face.

“Dawn, I guess you haven’t met my Uncle Johan yet,” he said. “Uncle Johan, my wife Dawn.”  
Dawn, completely clued in, firmly plastered a smile onto her face.   
“And our girls,” Ty continued. “Ruby, Grace...”  
“And Chloe!!” Chloe yelled.   
“Ah. Uhm. Yes. Hello girls,” Johan said. “Nice to meet you.” Then he looked at Dawn. “Charmed.”

Dawn didn’t stop grinning, and you could see it in Johan’s eyes: The thought that his third son had married a toothpaste advert. He nodded, his smile a little forced by now, and headed back towards the spot where he had left his duffle bag. 

Anders had a hard time keeping a straight face in front of all the kids, but so had their respective mothers. Anders knew he was never going to see any of them again, he wouldn’t see his nephews and nieces grow up. He wouldn’t see his beloved Dawnsie again, and he would never see the newest addition to the family that was currently still safely hidden away in Hanna’s belly. 

He hugged them all one last time. Ty had his arm draped around Anders’s shoulders as they left the others behind, the kids still cheering and waving, except Ruby who was miffed she couldn’t go with them to visit Russ. 

They boarded in silence, and Anders kept staring out of the window, his eyes fixed onto the tarmac of the runaway.

He had never given these things any thought. It had never occurred to him that the term _Homeland Soil_ would mean anything to him. But as the plane now accelerated, he realised that within a few moments, he would lose that soil under him and never set foot in New Zealand again.   
With lift-off, Anders stomach turned not only from the lurch. 

Anders kept staring out of the window until his eyes were burning as the last bit of land had vanished out of sight. 

Touchdown in Trondheim was in thirty-two hours. After that, it was only a matter of days. 

The thought that he had only less than a week to live, if he wanted his son to come home, was the last straw. He covered his eyes with one hand, but couldn’t quite suppress the tremor in his shoulders. The only thing he was grateful for right now was that he wasn’t sitting on his own; the Johnsons were scattered across the plane but Anders had been lucky enough to have a window seat and sit next to a family member instead of a total stranger.

Olaf didn’t say a word; he simply took Anders’s other hand and closed his fingers around it. Anders held on to that hand and leaned his head against the windowpane. 

His son was held hostage by creatures so stubborn and ruthless that even Bragi had had his troubles with them. The thought of them touching his son, harming or hurting him, was simply unbearable. He just wanted to be there already, and at the same time, he knew that once he was, his own time was up. 

Anders opened his eyes again and blinked until his vision cleared. Her kept staring at the clouds and wondered if it would hurt. And if so, how long. And how Russell would cope with all this. He could only hope we would be allowed to see him, and he didn’t allow himself to entertain the thought that he might be able to talk to him, to make a proper farewell. 

He just wanted this to be over. He needed to be in Trondheim. He needed to be with his son.

He was in for the longest thirty hours of his life.


	15. Chapter 15

At least everything had gone smoothly. After changing flights in Dubai and Oslo, the Johnsons arrived in Trondheim at two in the afternoon on Wednesday local time, utterly exhausted after thirty-two hours of flight and totally jet-lagged after having left Auckland on Tuesday at six thirty pm and having flown against the clock through the time zones. And not only had their time been warped by twelve hours, they had also crossed the hemispheres and ended up in autumn instead of spring.

Anders was already fumbling around for his phone as they headed for the exit, and as soon as they had stepped out into the rather cool air of an early autumn day in Trondheim, Anders called Russell’s phone. 

_“Bragi?”_  
“Yes. For a... I am in Trondheim. I just got off the plane.”  
_“Good.”_ It was a different voice this time, smoother and with much less of an accent. _“We will contact you. Do not call again.”_  
“I won’t but...”

The others just looked at each other as Anders dropped his head, the phone still clutched in his hand. 

After a moment, Mike exhaled a heavy huff of breath and adjusted this grip on his suitcase. “Let’s go then.” 

The ride in the shuttle bus to Trondheim took about half an hour, and no one spoke in all that time. None of them noticed, however, that they unconsciously took Anders into their middle wherever they walked, as if they somehow felt they could shield him from whatever was to come. Johan, duffle bag slung over his shoulder, took up the rear, and both his movements and the speed at which he walked belied the age that was so clearly etched into every line of his weathered face. 

Mike had saved the address of the hotel in his phone and now led them through the streets of Trondheim, just about twenty minutes on foot from the station. After having been crammed into planes for over thirty hours no one minded the walk despite having to drag the luggage around. 

They checked in at the hotel they had booked, only across the street from the cathedral. And since they had to try and stay awake until evening to keep a somewhat normal sleep schedule to get over the jet lag, they decided they take a walk over there and have a look at it. However, Olaf was the only one of the six of them who actually looked at the building. The others, bored and tired, just looked around with mild to no interest. 

Having reached the back side of the cathedral, Olaf pointed towards the trees and the old graveyard.

“Have you seen those gravestones? They’re ancient! I wonder who’s buried...”  
“Olaf.” Mike looked at Anders whose mouth had turned a thin line. “Shut it.”  
“Oh.” Olaf cleared his throat. “Sorry, Anders.”  
Anders just shrugged.  
“Maybe we should just look for a place to have dinner?” Ty shoved his hands into his pockets.  
“Sounds like a plan.” Johan cast another look at his second son, but Anders only looked at the gravestones. 

It was Axl who spotted it first, a red squirrel clinging to the trunk of one of the old trees overshadowing the old gravestones. It brought a tiny smile to his face. 

The squirrel, however, froze and stared at him with strangely intelligent eyes. 

“See that?” Axl asked.  
“See what?” Mike turned around.  
“The squirrel!”  
“It’s a fucking squirrel, Axl.” Mike shook his head. 

Axl shrugged and turned around again, but when he heard a rustle above him, he looked up to see the squirrel sit on a branch right above him. With a frown, he continued, only to realise that the squirrel leapt from one branch to the next, staying above him. It seemed rather big, for a squirrel.

“The bloody thing is following me!”  
Johan chuckled coarsely. “Shouldn’t have looked at it, son. Probably thinks you’re gonna feed it.”  
“Shoo,” Axl waved his hands at the animal. “I don’t have anything. Beat it.”

The squirrel continued to follow them. Ty and Mike noticed it as well as Olaf, and all of them cast occasional glances upward into the branches until they stepped free from the trees. Clinging to the trunk of an old beech the squirrel stared at them and chittered. 

“Beat it!” Axl waved his hands about. “Fuck off!”

Tilting its head the squirrel remained there for a second before it spiralled up the tree and vanished in the branches.

“Jesus fucking ChrieeaaAAH!!” Axl screamed like a little girl in a ghost train as the squirrel unceremoniously dropped from the branches onto his head. He slapped at it with wild curses and tried to grab it as it flit from one shoulder to the other, watched by his guffawing brothers and Olaf while Johan doubled over with laughter. Even Anders had to grin. 

Apparently satisfied that it had given Axl a sufficient piece of its mind the squirrel finally skittered down his back and after a few graceful hops, vanished up the nearest tree.

“Christ!” Axl sorted out his jacket and his hair and shot his companions a dark look. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, will I?”  
Ty and Mike shook their heads with a grin.  
“Axl, the squirrel whisperer,” Olaf said and inclined his head. “Pure magic.”  
“Fuck off! No wonder Anders hated this country! Even the rodents are aggressive here!”  
Olaf chuckled. “Didn’t know Odin also had berserk squirrels in his army of fallen warriors.”  
“Fuck. Off.”

Still chuckling and grinning they left the cathedral behind and engaged in a search for dinner. 

The lightening of the mood from the squirrel incident didn’t last long; once they had ordered their dinner in a pizza place the heavy silence was back.  
Anders picked at his food with no enthusiasm. He was pale, and seemed to have aged a decade since boarding the plane in Auckland. 

“Anders,” Mike finally said. “We’re going to get both of you home.”  
“You have no idea what we’re dealing with,” Anders gave back tonelessly. “Just get Russ home safely.”  
“Oh, we will.” Olaf shoved the last bite of his slice of pizza into his mouth. “And you as well.”  
“Fuck off.” Anders dropped his fork. “Just knock it off.”

Mike met Olaf’s eyes and shook his head. Olaf shrugged, and the rest of the dinner was spent in uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Agreeing on the rooming arrangements had taken them a while since no one wanted to share a room with Johan, until Olaf had finally volunteered. Now the two of them vanished into their room glaring at each other as if to dare the other to say one wrong word. 

Ty and Axl shared a room and after Mike and Anders had entered theirs, Mike shut the door and watched his brother fall onto the bed. Anders clamped his hands between his knees and stared at the wall. Mike sat silently down beside him. 

“I should never have let him go,” Anders whispered tonelessly.  
“Anders.” Mike sighed heavily. “You can’t coddle and protect him for the rest of his life.”  
“I know.” Anders closed his eyes. “But I should have at least tried to convince him not to come here. Denmark, Sweden... or even Iceland. Just not Norway.”  
“And how were you supposed to know...”  
“I fucking talked to you about it, didn’t I?” Anders looked at his brother with burning eyes.  
“Yes, but you were afraid of the god hunters, not the giants.”

Anders shrugged and shook his head.

Mike was at a loss as to what else to say. Clearly, there was nothing that could cheer Anders up, understandably so, but there was nothing he could say to give him hope, either. In the end, they got ready for bed without having spoken another word.

Anders curled up around his phone and kept staring at the display. His thoughts were racing, and despite the exhaustion, he couldn’t find any rest. He kept thinking about those he had left behind, the family he would never see again, and he wished he could have said farewell to Christine. She had no idea that he wouldn’t come back, and Anders wondered how she would take the news. She had been his friend for the better part of twelve years, always a shoulder to lean on, and he missed her comforting presence fiercely right now. But wherever his thoughts went, they always returned to this one thing: Russell in the hands of the giants. 

He briefly wondered if this was how a prisoner on death row felt. Knowing he had to die. And in that knowledge, just waiting for it to be finally over. He didn’t want this to drag on only to have a few hours more. He wanted to get Russell out of here and have it over with. 

He was terrified. He didn’t want to die. Not here, not like this. But the thought of Russell dying at the hands of these creatures was even more terrifying. And the thought that even if they had him they wouldn’t let Russell go was fucking unbearable. It was the ER all over again. This time, though it was even worse.

Anders hadn’t been aware of his tears, not until he felt Mike suddenly settle down onto the bed behind him. And to his utter surprise, his older brother spooned him and put an arm around his chest. 

“Are you fucking serious? We’re too old for this shit!”  
“Not giving a fuck,” Mike said. “It’s going to be okay, Andy.”  
“You know it won’t.” Anders closed his eyes again.  
“We won’t give in without a fight, brother.”  
Anders voice was thick with tears and he hated himself for it. “You can’t fight these fucking things.”  
Mike took one of his hands. “We can,” he said. “And we will.”

Anders tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’m fucking scared, Mikkel,” he whispered.  
“I know.” Mike closed his fingers tightly around Anders’s. “But you’re not alone.”

Anders just tried to calm his breathing again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like this to comfort him and he knew they were too old for this shit and he also knew he should feel uncomfortable and embarrassed because fuck, he was a grown man... but suddenly the last forty years hadn’t happened and Mike was his big brother again who protected him from the monsters under his bed. And against all expectations, Anders got a few hours of sleep that night.

* * *

At a loss about to what to do after breakfast, the Johnsons decided to take another walk through town. And when everyone was ready and they were gathered in front of the hotel door, they tried to decide which way to go. 

“Maybe we should go and visit Axl’s friend again,” Johan said with a chuckle.  
“Fuck off,” Axl pressed out between gritted teeth.  
“You know, you should really take this with a bit more grace, son.” Johan smiled up at him. “You know the laugh is always on the...”  
“I get it.” Axl shoved his hands into his pockets.  
“Maybe you should wear a safety helmet,” Ty suggested with a smirk.  
“To keep the squirrels out of your hair,” Olaf added, and everyone cracked up. 

Axl looked up as if imploring the heavens to aid him and shook his head. 

“You know, actually...” Olaf looked towards the cathedral. “Actually, there’s a pretty interesting museum right over there and we could take a look at that?”  
“Since when are you so keen on history?” Johan crossed his arms with a frown.  
“Since I became an oracle 86 years ago.”  
“Well you became not an oracle anymore fifteen years ago so...”  
“Will you shut up,” Mike hissed and jerked his head towards the direction of a young man leaning against a lamppost on the other side of the road. He was watching them with mild interest.

At that moment the man, a textbook Scandinavian type, tall and blonde, pushed himself away from the lamp, looked left and right and then crossed the street, heading purposefully towards them. The Johnsons fell silent and Anders swallowed hard, trying to square his shoulders.

The blonde stranger looked from one Johnson to the other, and finally, his eyes came to halt on Axl, not Anders. Axl hunched his shoulders and tried to smile. 

“Please, would you come with me,” the stranger said. His English was crystal clear without the slightest trace of an accent. “I am not your enemy.”

That had the Johnsons exchange some baffled looks with each other, but after that, Mike looked at the stranger and nodded. “Lead the way.”

They followed the man across the street and around the cathedral. Behind the large building, where they had looked at the gravestones the day before, were three more people waiting under the trees. Like their guide, all of them were tall and blond. 

Axl couldn’t help but cast a wary and distrustful glance upward into the canopy.

The other three people were a couple about the same age as Ty and a woman about Anders’s age. The young man who had led them here, hardly older than Russell, now stepped towards the small group and all four of them faced the Johnsons with calm expressions. 

Mike and Ty crossed their arms, Axl shoved his hands into his pockets and as Olaf rested his hands on his hips Johan hooked his thumbs into his belt. They all flanked Anders with decisive faces.

“We are not your enemies,” the older of the two women said. “We are on your side.”  
“Would you care to explain that?” Mike asked and took a step forward. “Who are you?”  
“We are your allies,” the young man said. “We have a common enemy.”  
“And what enemy would that be?” Olaf asked slowly.  
“The giants,” the younger woman replied.

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“How do you know about us?” Mike finally asked. “How did you find us?”  
“Oh, we didn’t find you,” the older woman said with a chuckle. “He did.”  
“Who?”

She wordlessly pointed upward and there it was... or he... the squirrel that had attacked Axl the day before.

“Oh Jesus no...” Axl took a step back. 

“So who are you guys?” Olaf asked. “And why do you use trained squirrels to find people?”  
“He isn’t trained,” the young man laughed. “He found you, and he came to us and told us about you.”  
“Told you?”

“Look.” The younger woman sighed and shot her companions a sour look. “This isn’t the time for games.” Like all the others, she spoke English without the slightest trace of an accent. She faced Mike again. “Forgive us the confusion, sometimes we just can’t help ourselves. We’re on your side, we know about the charge of Bragi and that one of you is his father.”

All eyes came to rest on Anders who reached for a tie he wasn’t wearing.

“We will help you get him back,” the woman continued. “But I don’t want to say anything more, not out here.”  
“Then where?” Mike asked and looked around.  
“We don’t live too far away from here,” the older man said. “But I think introductions are in order. “Here and now, I go by the name of Bjarte Tennford, and this is my wife Erle.” The young woman stepped beside him and nodded.  
The younger man now inclined his head as well. “Torleif Landvik.”  
“Fenja Guldbrandsen,” the older woman said and nodded. “And your little friend here...” She pointed upward with a tiny smile. [“Ratatosk.”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ratatoskr)

Very, very slowly, Olaf looked up at the squirrel. “You’re not serious, are you?”  
“Oh, I am. He has spent hundreds of lifetimes here, waiting for the day he will be able to go home.”

And then, the squirrel spoke. It actually said something, but none of the Johnsons could understand it.

“He only speaks the tongue of the old world,” the woman called Fenja said, somewhat apologetically.  
“And...” Olaf rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “What... did he say?”  
“Let’s just say he is not overly fond of the fact that he still can’t go home, and he expects you, the god vessels, to be able to do something about it.”

The Johnsons stared at the little creature and Axl finally shook his head. 

“Enough of this now,” Bjarte said. “Please follow me. We will talk, and we will answer all your questions. But not here.”

Mike nodded, and the Johnsons followed the four Norwegians as they left the graveyard and the cathedral behind. 

Axl cast a last look back over his shoulder, just in time to see the squirrel jump again. But this time, it landed elegantly on his shoulder and sniffed his ear. In the knowledge of facing a creature of legends, even if it was only a bloody squirrel, Axl tensed and stared into the black, beady eyes with a look of deep suspicion. 

“What does he want now?” Axl asked hesitantly.  
“Probably hitch a ride,” Johan chuckled. “Let’s go, son.”

Axl caught up with the group of people, the squirrel riding on his right shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

After crossing the Nidelva they turned left, walked down cobbled streets and past some shops and cafes before they arrived at a small house that was covered in weather boarding painted a cheerful yellow. The interior was a tasteful mix of antique and modern, and once the smell of coffee wafted through the house everyone settled down at the table in the living room, including Ratatosk who took up residency on top of the bookshelf. 

Bjarte and Erle served coffee and a basket full of sliced white bread that came with butter and preserves. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” Erle said. “Would you mind telling us your names?” 

During the introductions, Olaf was already busily buttering his bread and Johan was lathering red preserve onto the slice on his plate.

“Can I ask a question?” Axl asked cautiously.  
“By all means.” Erle nodded.  
“How did...” Axl looked up at the book shelf. “How did he know who we were?”  
“Well, what he said is that he smelled Odin on you.”  
Axl snorted and shook his head. “It’s fifteen years ago. I mean, it’s been fifteen years since Odin left.”  
“I have no idea.”

Axl looked up again. Ratatosk stretched out his tail and looked down. Then he said something. 

“What?” Axl looked helplessly at their hosts.  
“He said it’s a rather distinctive smell.”  
“I bet he didn’t say that in so many words. He probably said I stink.”  
Ratatosk chittered, and it sounded decidedly more like laughter.   
“Why me?” Axl asked helplessly. “I didn’t do anything!”  
“I have no idea,” Erle said again. “I don’t think his mind works in a way we could understand.”

Ratatosk leapt down from the bookshelf and landed on Axl’s shoulder, then he muttered something into his ear.

“This is totally freaking me out,” Axl said with a nervous chuckle. “Though Zeb will probably throw a fit when I tell him about this.”  
“And what did he say this time?” Johan asked with a grin.  
“He said he always wanted to be friends with Odin,” Bjarte replied with a grin of his own.  
“And I’m as good as it gets, huh?” Axl squinted up at the squirrel on his shoulder, and there it was again, that chitter that sounded like laughter, before the squirrel hopped up onto the bookshelf again. 

“I’d really like to get down to business,” Mike said then as he took a sip of coffee. “Who exactly are you?”  
“We were sent here because of Bragi’s charge,” Torleif said. “And we...”  
“We have to start at the beginning,” Fenja interrupted him gently, and to the Johnsons, she continued: “I guess you have figured out by now that we are not human. Not completely, at least. Just like you aren’t completely human.”  
“Indeed.” Olaf finished chewing. “So what are you?”  
“We are light elves,” Fenja replied. “And the first one to make a Tolkien joke or a Peter Jackson reference is going to regret it.”  
“You know we’re Kiwis, right?” Olaf reached for another slice of bread. “We come from Tolkien Land, so that’s a really hard thing to ask of us.”

Fenja leaned back and crossed her arms. 

“Just use your mouth for eating, Olaf.” Mike shook his head and looked at Fenja again. “Light elves.”  
“Light elves. How much do you know about us and our realm?”  
Now Mike blinked slowly and with a sigh of defeat looked at Olaf again, who had his mouth full and smiled cheerfully back as he pointed at his bulging cheeks. 

“Then let me explain.” Bjarte put down his cup. “We light elves live in Alfheim, which lies in the same realm as Asgard and Vanaheim. Our ruler is Lord Freyr, a Vanir. This is why we were able to return, unlike the giants, dwarves and dark elves. The god took us with him when he returned to the realms of the gods.”  
“With us so far?” Torleif asked.  
“I think so,” Mike said and Ty nodded as well.

Anders, on the other hand, had spent the whole time in stony silence. He seemed to be listening to the conversation with only half an ear, and his focus was solely on his phone. 

“So,” Bjarte went on. “After the gods returned to Asgard and Vanaheim, the other races meant to return home as well. But the ways into their realms are not open, and we do not know why. If the gods know, they haven’t told us.”  
“And then there is our Lady Gerd, who is the wife of our Lord Freyr,” Erle continued. “She is a jotun, a giant. She heard the tidings of the giants gathering here in the borderland.”  
“Borderland?” Axl blinked in confusion.  
“The land around the borders,” Erle bit her lower lip. “The borders to the... the other realms.”  
“Like, Asgard?”  
“Yes, like Asgard.” Erle nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “So Lady Gerd told her husband of the gathering of giants here in Norway, who then sent word of this to Asgard. As it turned out, however, the gods were not particularly interested in solving that problem, leaving the giants and dark elves and dwarves stranded in this country because they can’t move on from here.”  
“That sounds exactly like the kind of dick move the gods would do,” Ty remarked darkly. “And then?”

The light elves exchanged a few looks with each other. 

“You see,” Fenja said slowly. “We, the light elves, have also a strong affiliation with another god beside our Lord Freyr. We do love music and poetry and stories more than everything, so...”  
“Bragi.” Olaf had finished his third slice of bread and reached for another.  
Erle nodded firmly. “Yes. Our Lord Bragi is...” Then she broke off, obviously at a loss.

“Lord Freyr is our ruler, our king,” Fenja said. “But Lord Bragi, he is our god. Bragi, crafter of legends, he who knows the true name of everything and everyone, he who speaks every language and knows every song. He of the golden voice and silver tongue.”

Anders looked up because he felt all eyes on him, not because he had paid attention to what was being said. “The fuck you looking at?”

“Anyway.” Fenja went on after clearing her throat. “So what happened is that Lord Bragi came to Alfheim to speak to Lord Freyr. It was because his charge, the son of his former vessel, had come to Norway and he was worried about his safety. So he begged Lord Freyr for aid.”  
“And Lord Frey turned to us,” Bjarte went on. “For he, too, is a lover of music and poetry. And he asked for volunteers to go to Midgard and the realm of mortal men, to watch over Bragi’s charge.”  
“Fucking good job you did there,” Anders snapped.  
“Is it our fault that the dark elves took more interest in the borders than the gods themselves?” Bjarte snapped back. “If the Aesir had looked into this matter like Lord Freyr had asked them to this wouldn’t have happened!”  
“Bjarte.” Fenja patted his arm. “Don’t take offence. It is his own son we’re talking about, who is in the hands of the jotun.”

Anders swallowed hard and looked at his phone again.

“This is what we know,” Fenja said. “We know that the jotun, the dark elves and the dwarves have been accumulating here in Norway, coming here in hopes of being able to go home and getting stranded instead. And it seems that Lord Bragi’s fears were justified. We have to admit we failed him.” This time it was her who swallowed. “We underestimated the giants. We did not believe they would ally themselves with the dark elves. That has never happened before. They are mortal enemies.”  
“And now?” Mike clutched his cup and leaned forward. “What does Russell have to do with anything? I would understand if the giants said they want to use him to bargain with the gods, but they told Anders they want him, or they take Russell’s blood instead!”

The light elves exchanged a few dismayed looks. 

“Blood?” Erle finally asked. “Did they say anything else?”  
“No.” Anders joined the conversation again. “They called me Bragi, said they wanted me, and if they couldn’t have me, then they’d take the blood of my son. They didn’t say anything else.”  
“It’s as we feared.” Erle shook her head. “The dark elves are fierce and clever. They must have found something, something we don’t know about. But I have no idea what blood, even less so the blood of a former vessel, would have to do with it.”  
“Then we’d better find out, and fast,” Johan cut in.   
Fenja sighed. “We and the dark elves are not exactly on the best of terms, either. And it is only four of us, and I have no idea how many of them.”

“So...” Ty looked around. “What are we going to do now?”  
Fenja sighed. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”  
“Maybe you should go back to the hotel?” Erle asked. “They might try to contact you there.”  
“Contact me?” Anders went pale. “In the hotel?”  
“They found Russell.” Bjarte shrugged, an uneasy frown on his face.  
“Anders...” Mike said with a heavy sigh. “You called them when we left the airport. They know there’s the shuttle bus. You don’t have to be a genius to wait at the station and find someone who looks like a tourist and... well... sorry, but if they know what Russell looks like, they will recognise you.”

“I... shit...” Anders had a hard time keeping his breathing calm. “We have to go back...”  
“You think...” Ty broke off. “Yes. We probably should.”

The Johnsons got ready to leave and went on their way back to the hotel in stony silence. Anders unconsciously walked faster and faster, but none of the others had the heart to stop him, so they just kept up. The light elves followed them, looking around with wary glances. Ratatosk had hitched a ride as well, this time in the pocket of Fenja’s coat.

And once they had reached the hotel, their worst fears were instantly confirmed.

“Mr Johnson?” The receptionist looked at them questioningly.  
“That would be the lot of us,” Mike replied, trying to keep his face calm.  
“Oh.” The receptionist produced a large brown padded envelope. “Someone delivered that for you, but they didn’t specify.”  
“Thanks,” Mike replied tonelessly and nodded as he took the envelope. “We’ll figure it out.”

The light elves waited downstairs in the lobby while the Johnsons headed upstairs, and the atmosphere was so tense it was palpable. Once they had reached Anders’s and Mike’s room and had closed the door behind them, Anders instantly tore the envelope open. 

Inside was a single sheet. 

_It looks like you made some new friends, but they won’t be able to find us either. But if you think of approaching anyone else, the next time it will be permanent._

“Permanent?” Ty crossed his arms.   
“Oh no...” Anders whispered, his voice as brittle as old, dead leafs. “Oh no...”

The padding, as it turned out, was not the envelope itself but a white plastic bin bag containing something soft that had been flattened out to fit inside. Anders opened the bag with a hoarse, terrified gasp.

It was hair. Soft, reddish-gold hair. And obviously, the giants had not been content with just cutting off a single strand to make their point. 

Anders dropped the bag as if it had burned him, and Axl was just about fast enough to react when Anders’s legs gave way under him. He came to again only seconds later, but by that time Mike had already swept off the envelope, the sheet and the bag and stuffed it into his suitcase.

Axl was still holding on to his older brother, who looked as if he had been shot dead and forgotten he was supposed to fall over now. The room around them was filled with equal parts fury and terror now.

“We should never have gone with them,” Anders whispered. “We shouldn’t...”  
“But we did,” Mike said huskily. “But we only got a warning shot. Still, we should stay in the hotel now.”  
“Someone should tell them,” Olaf said, with a worried glance at Anders’s deathly pale face.   
“Let’s go,” Mike replied. “There’s a bar down in the lobby and Anders needs a drink.”  
“I don’t want no fucking drink,” Anders whispered, closing his eyes.  
“Then a coffee, for fuck’s sake.”  
“Don’t want no fucking coffee either.” Anders swallowed drily. “I want Russell back.”  
“We’ll get him back,” Olaf replied. “But if you don’t want a drink, I can sure as fuck do with one.”

They headed downstairs again, with Anders clinging to Axl’s arm like an invalid. Once they had relocated into the bar and Mike had explained what had happened, everyone fell silent for a while. Anders kept staring at his phone, and understandably, was even tenser now, his shoulders hunched, his mouth a thin line.

“Anders?” Erle leaned forward.  
“Hm?” Anders looked up at her.  
“Did they say anything regarding the exchange?”  
“No.” He shook his head. “Only that they will contact me.”  
“I see.” She frowned. “If only...”  
“Anders.” This time it was Torleif who spoke. “Next time they call you, turn the speaker on so we can hear what they tell you.”

Anders nodded and kept on staring at his phone. 

“So what’s the course of action now?” Johan finally asked. “What are we supposed to do?”  
“We wait,” Bjarte said simply. “We have to wait for them to contact Anders, we can’t do anything else.”  
“There has to be something we can do!” Ty was visibly forcing himself to keep calm. “Should we try and talk to the police?”  
Anders head flew up. “Oh no we won’t!”  
“I would advise against it,” Fenja replied. “The dark elves are highly intelligent and absolutely ruthless.”  
“But...” Ty gritted his teeth.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ty.” Anders’s eyes were burning. “Don’t you...”  
“No one will do anything,” Fenja cut in. “They’re calling the shots here. We have to do what they say.”  
“No shit, Sherlock.”  
Fenja narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

“I wish we had a way of finding out what they know,” Bjarte said after a moment. “It has to be something important, something to do with the borders. But why they think that Bragi’s former vessel is essential for this...”  
“I wish we could talk to Lord Freyr.” Erle closed her eyes. “Or our Lord Bragi.”  
“But we can’t.” Mike put his empty cup down. “We’re on our own. Wishing for shit is not going to help us get Russell back and Anders’s neck out of the noose.”

The four light elves exchanged a few looks with one another.

“Forgive us,” Fenja said after a moment. “We simply don’t know how to handle this situation. We’re not fighters. We were supposed to steer him away from danger while keeping a low profile. We do not know what to do.”  
“Then we have to think, for fuck’s sake!” Ty forced his fists to uncurl and pressed his hands flat onto the table. “There has to be a weak point! There has to be something!”  
“Do you think it would be possible to negotiate with them once we meet?” Olaf took a sip of beer. “Maybe there is something we can offer them instead.”  
“If they want blood, and would use Russell’s instead of Anders’s even though they prefer it to be Bragi’s former vessel, then I doubt anything but blood would satisfy them.” Fenja took a deep breath. “I’m at a loss.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Anders let go of his phone and looked up, his face a pale, unmoving mask. “The only thing we have to think about is how to get Russ to safety.”  
“But you...” Ty began.  
“Nothing.” Anders met his brother’s eyes. “Nothing, Ty. I knew it was a one way ticket for me. I can’t say I’ve made my peace...” He swallowed hard. “But this is it. They get me, they let Russell go. And then it’s curtains for me. End of story.”  
“But...”  
“Shut the fuck up.” Anders looked at his phone again. “This isn’t a fucking fairy tale. There’s no magic bean stalk to get rid of the giants.”  
“Anders...”

“Will you shut up?” Anders’s voice was as sharp as a whip lash. “I’m sick as fuck of your fucking whining! This is it, Ty! Get over it!”  
“Anders... you’re my brother and I won’t...”  
“It’s one Johnson less in the picture,” Anders replied, a sharp edge to his voice and a bitter sneer on his face. “But there’s enough other Johnsons on standby back in Auckland to carry on the family name.”  
“Anders, there’s no reason to be so abrasive towards your brothers,” Erle cut in sharply. “They’re worried about you!”  
“Fat load of good that does me,” Anders snapped back. “It’s not as if I had any special place in that family! I’m about as useful to them as a white crayon without Bragi and they’d hardly notice me being gone!”

“Anders,” Mike said gently. “You’re not having a sudden twelve-year-relapse, are you?”

Anders froze and stared up at his older brother, his eyes filling with tears. But before either he or Mike could say or do anything, Anders’s phone rang. Anders’s face drained of all colour.

“Anders,” Torleif hissed. “Speakers!”

Anders accepted the call, and everyone around the table could hear the voice at the other end. It was a female voice this time, pleasant and calm.

_“Bragi.”_  
“You know I’m not Bragi anymore, do you? The gods...”  
 _“The gods left for Asgard and didn’t give a shit about the mess they left behind,”_ she interrupted him. _“Yes, we know. Your mortal name is of no consequence to us.”_  
“Fine.” Anders tried to calm his breathing. “So what...”  
 _“You know we know about your new friends,”_ the woman said. _“And now you will listen to me, because I will say this only once.”_  
Anders pressed his lips tightly together.  
 _“We know they don’t pose a real threat, but we still don’t want any of you getting funny ideas. You will meet us tonight, at ten o’clock, at the scrapyard behind Fretex and Metalico. It’s at the south end of the industrial estate.”_  
“Yes.” Anders swallowed again. “Can I bring one of my brothers to drive Russell back home?”  
 _“He can come at ten thirty to pick him up. You will be there at ten, and you will be there alone, understood?”_  
“Understood.” Anders’s voice was hardly audible.  
 _“We have eyes on the premises, Bragi. If we see anything larger than a rat, we will risk ending up with the wrong sacrifice, and you will never see your son again. Understood?”_  
“Yes.” He closed his eyes. “Yes, I understand.”  
 _“Good.”_

The call was ended and Anders slowly put the phone down. He didn’t open his eyes. 

Everyone around him was silent, a heavy silence that seeped into the marrow of one’s bones like the coldness on a wet winter day. 

Anders folded his arms onto the table and buried his face in them. It was noon time now. He had ten hours left. 

He would not see another sunrise.


	17. Chapter 17

Some time passed in stony silence, but as Ty wanted to drape an Arm around Anders's shoulders the latter sat up again.

“I need to go back upstairs. I got some shit to sort out.”  
Ty leaned back. “Okay...”  
“You could all come back to our place with your things,” Erle said after a moment. “Check out of the hotel, I mean, we have guest rooms upstairs. As you wish, of course.”  
“Not as if that's my business anymore.” Anders shrugged and got up. “Your call.”

It wasn't as if they were in a hurry, so no one complained when Anders took his time. He took a shower, did some grooming and beard trimming and put on some cologne before dressing in black denim and a black dress shirt. 

He had always told himself he would go out in style. Might as well make good on those words. Then he gave himself a last critical look in the mirror before shrugging a grey jacket into place.

He tried not to think of the envelope. Of permanent damage, and what that would mean. 

And suddenly his mind conjured an image of Russell, looking at the piano with tears running down his cheeks while clutching a hand to his chest that lacked three fingers.

Anders barely made it to the bathroom in time, and spent a while sitting next to the toilet while trying to get his shit back together again. 

When he felt his legs would support him again he got up, brushed his teeth and packed his things. After that, he opened a small compartment in the lid of his suitcase and took out an envelope. Anders sat down on the bed and opened it, looking at his own handwriting with a frown. 

He didn't want to do this. He hated this. But this was it. He didn’t have a choice about this. Not anymore.

_Dear Russ,_

_I know you won't like this. I know you've got your share of shitty letters from deceased parents, and I'm sorry I have to do this. But the truth is, I don't think I'll ever get to talk to you again. This is my last chance to tell you all these things that suddenly appeared in my head when I realised I would never see you again._

_I don’t know how much you realised that I wasn't really thrilled by the thought of you going to Norway but you weren’t really supposed to catch on. Now you know why. It wasn't something I wanted to burden you with; these were my bad memories, not yours, and I hoped they were just that. Memories. It meant so much to you, and I wanted you to live your own life, not another version of mine._

_I will never forgive myself for trying to forget about what happened to me in Norway. Because that came back to haunt me now, and you had to pay the price. At this point in time I can only hope they didn't harm you. The thought is fucking unbearable and I won't even dare to hope you will ever forgive me for letting you run into the open knife like that._

_You told me that I was your knight in shining armour. Still flattered, to be honest. But this time I'm not some blazing hero. I'm just your dad trying to get you out of trouble you're in because of my own fault. I'm not a hero, Russ. I never was. I'm not a hero now. I'm just your father and it's you or me, so there's no choice for me._

_You know I'm not cut out for this. I can't make flowery speeches. We talked about this before, but I'll mention it again here, because it's true. And it's important._

_Russell, you were the best that ever happened to me. I got my shit together because of you, I became a better man for you and because of you and in the end, for me as well. You, or your sudden presence in my life, taught me a few very valuable lessons._

_Having suddenly someone in my life who was utterly dependent on me was scary. But it also helped me grow. Suddenly it wasn't only me anymore and I had to think of the consequences for the both of us. Think of your well-being instead of mine. I used to always go the line of least resistance. And when that option wasn't open to me anymore, I realised I was stronger (and probably more stubborn, tbh) than I would ever have thought._

_I had a lot of issues stemming from a childhood that, as you know, was less than stellar. Ask my brothers about it, I'm sure they have a few choice stories to tell. But Rose, remember her? Our family therapist from that first year? She told me that if I want to help you battle your demons, I had to get rid of my own first. So I did. I didn't only look at you and your issues any more. And with that, I could finally let go of and deal with things I had been hiding even from myself for decades. I learned there's no longer any need to pretend shit didn't happen. That in fact it's pretty counterproductive. And without you, I would never have had the reason or the strength to battle my own demons. It gave me a peace of mind I never thought I would have._

_I was always a loner, Russ. Relationships were for pussies and all I wanted from a woman was sex. The only emotional attachments I had were to my brothers and that sometimes felt more like a force of habit than anything else._   
_But for some reason, it wasn't only me whose world had been turned upside down. It was as if it wasn't only me who wanted to give you something that he never had. We were brothers, yes, but I hadn't really been on speaking terms with Mike for more than fifteen years. And suddenly, with you in the picture, and after I sorted myself, we were brothers again. Real brothers. The whole abysmal fuck-up of dysfunctional relationships suddenly changed. We all wanted life to be better for you. And with that, because of you, we turned into a proper family._

_And back then, three weeks after you came to Auckland with me, I had a really ugly meltdown in Ty's living room and he sat that through with me. And he told me that I couldn't make you feel welcome unless I accepted you as a part of my life._

_That's what the hardest part was, Russ. Not having you live in my house but make you part of my life. I had to open up to you, and that was the hardest thing I ever did. I don't have to explain to you how it feels when the one person who is supposed to love you unconditionally just doesn't give a shit. I cut myself off. I didn't allow myself to get attached to anyone. But you were so young, so helpless, so innocent and so hurt that having you sleep next door and tying your shoelaces was so fucking insufficient that I couldn't bear the thought sometimes. But I kept fucking things up, and it was driving me crazy._

_I guess without that trust building and all that therapy I would never have gotten there. But it started with me just not wanting to care for you but about you, you know? I wanted to be your father. And then I wanted to be your dad._

_For the better part of my life I had thought it wasn't worth it, making myself vulnerable to heartache. So I kept everyone at an arm's length. But with you it was different. All of a sudden, I didn't want you to keep you at arm's length. And I thought it wasn't going to happen but when you ended up in the hospital and I thought I'd lose you, I had to realise it had happened._

_It wasn't that you walked into my life and marched into my heart, Russ. You were dragged into it and somehow, slowly wormed and inched your way into my heart without me noticing. (And I know exactly that you're grinning now, and what that grin looks like, so stop rolling your eyes and read on.)_

_And that's the last thing you taught me, Russ. You taught me that it's worth it, daring to love someone. Right now, of course, I almost regret it because I hurt like fuck, thinking of you. But I still wouldn't have it any other way. Thanks to you I finally know what it feels like to be father and son, and I hope that you can give that to your own kid some day if you chose to have one._

_I said it before, I'll say it again. You were the best that ever happened to me, Russ. And I hope now you understand why I said you made me a better man and what that means._

_And there's one last thing I got to say now, and I really need you to take that to heart, okay?_

_None of this was your fault. Going to Norway was your dream, and I was happy for you that your dream came true. That it turned into a nightmare is not your fault. I need you to believe that. You can regret how it turned out all you want, but never blame yourself for it. I'm gone because some shit-ass freaks remembered they saw me there fifteen years ago, not because you went there to follow your dreams._

_Keep doing that, my son. Follow your dreams. I know you can do it. And I'm proud of the man you have become._

_Life is good, Russell._

_Love,_   
_Dad_

Anders had spent hours and hours on that letter. His whole Monday and most of Tuesday had been spent at his desk trying to get it right. He wanted this to be positive, as much as possible, at least. He had hopes that his son might cherish his father's last words to him instead of feeling the need to wad the paper into a ball and throw it at the nearest wall.

With a sigh, he got up, slid the sheets back into the envelope again and slipped it into Mike’s washbag. 

The terror that had been his constant companion since Sunday morning slowly turned into a heavy coldness in his guts now. It was finally time. A look at his watch told him he had five hours left, or less than that if he had to be there at ten. 

And despite alcohol costing a fucking fortune in this fucking country, Anders had a Vodka Martini at the bar after all before they left the hotel to return to Bjarte's and Erle's house. Fenja didn’t come with them this time and headed another way after the first crossroad.

Once there, Erle went upstairs with the others while Anders sat down on the sofa in the living room, where he gratefully accepted a cup of coffee that Bjarte held out to him. He sat down next to Anders and looked straight ahead.

“Fenja is coming in a bit, she went home to get her car. You can take that to drive down there; we don't think a taxi would be a good idea.”  
Anders nodded without looking at him.  
“I'm sorry we didn't find another solution.”  
Anders could only shrug. What was he to say after all? What was the point?  
“Me and Erle will drive Mike down there at half past ten. We promise we will do a better job this time.”

At that, Anders finally looked up.  
“I swear,” Bjarte said in a low voice. “We will not let him out of sight again. And your brothers are here as well. He will come to no further harm.”  
“That's all that matters.” Anders looked straight ahead again.

At that moment, Ratatosk leaped down from the bookshelf and hopped onto Anders's right thigh. He said something, and Anders looked at him and shrugged.  
“I can't understand a fucking word you're saying.”  
Ratatosk clicked his tongue.  
“He said that you should be able to outwit the giants,” Bjarte said.  
“Maybe.” Anders clutched his cup. “But it's not only giants we're dealing with.”

The squirrel sagged a little and crept into Anders's lap where he curled up. Anders stared down at the little creature and with a shake of his head, leaned back and closed his eyes. 

Three hours.

* * *

Anders wasn't sure he would make it, not because he wouldn't find the place, as Fenja had programmed it into her GPS, but because it was the first time in his life he was in a left hand drive and it was freaking him out. He kept knocking his hand into the door when he wanted to shift gears and had a hard time remembering to drive on the wrong side of the road.

He reached the scrap yard fifteen minutes early and remained in the car, eyes closed while he listened to the radio blaring adverts he couldn't understand. At five minutes to ten, he killed the engine and got out of the car. 

In the darkness he saw the two headlights approach and he swallowed drily, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it was almost painful. The car stopped, but the engine kept running, and now Anders was looking almost straight into the light. He couldn’t see a fucking thing. 

The doors opened and now he could see that it was, in fact, a large van, an eight-seater to be precise. Four people now left the car, a woman and three men, the latter tall and burly.   
The giants and the dark elves were so clearly the muscle and the brain that it was ridiculous. Or would have been ridiculous if Russell's life wasn't on the line. 

“Bragi.” It was the woman who had spoken to him over the phone.  
“For a given value of.”

She nodded and gestured towards the van. Another person appeared, dragging someone with him, and that last person had a cotton shopping bag over their head. Anders heart skipped a beat and started to race even more now. And then it almost stopped when the last giant lifted a sawed-off shotgun and pointed it at Russell's head.   
Suddenly, Anders was grateful for the bag because it meant that Russell wouldn't be as afraid as he might otherwise be.

“Take off your coat,” the woman said. “No stupid moves.”

Anders silently shook his head, his eyes on the shotgun, and slowly reached for the zipper of his parka. After shrugging it off his shoulders he let it drop to the ground. 

“Step away from it.”

When Anders had taken a step to the side, the woman nodded. The giant behind Russell lowered his shotgun again, but he still kept a firm grip on his arms. 

“Get in the van.”

Anders nodded and slowly walked towards the group of people. The giants shot him distrustful, watchful glares and then the one with the shotgun pushed Russell roughly out of the way. He stumbled forward with a surprised shout and lost his balance.

“Russell!”  
Russell tore the bag from his head. “Dad?”  
The giant behind him grabbed Anders shoulder and hauled him into the van. The others jumped hastily in and pulled the door shut.

“Dad!”

Anders was dragged back and he could only stare out of the window at his son who staggered to his feet as the van accelerated. He could see the scruff on Russell’s chin, the cropped hair, and the wide, panicked eyes. He could hear his scream. 

“Dad! DAD!!”

The van rounded a corner, and Anders closed his eyes, his heart cold and heavy in his chest. 

_God, I'm so sorry Russ... Good bye...._

* * *

“Dad! DAD!!”

Russell ran a few steps after the van, cold with shock. 

“Dad!” He stumbled to a halt and watched the rear lights disappear into the darkness. “Dad..?”

For a moment he just stood there, staring into the darkness where the van had disappeared. And with the realisation how cold he suddenly was, he also realised what had just happened. The people who had kidnapped him on the evening of his birthday on his way home from a little impromptu party... They now had his father and were gone. 

Gone.

“Dad...” He whispered, voice trembling. “God... Dad...”

And he was alone, god knows where in the darkness freezing his ass off because they hadn't returned his coat or his school bag to him. 

And then he slowly turned around. 

Anders's parka was still lying where he had dropped it, and with burning eyes and shaking hands, Russell walked there on unsteady legs. He picked it up and closed his eyes as he slipped it on. As everything his father bought it was of the highest quality and there was still some residual warmth left inside. 

Russell closed his eyes as he slunk into his father's parka. It was still warm from his body, and it carried his scent, the smell of Dad and his cologne, a smell that Russell had first encountered on the day Anders had taken him to Auckland. He had been so afraid of boarding the plane, and instead of yelling at him and dragging him through that terrifying tunnel, Anders had picked him up and carried him. And he had been using the same cologne back then that he still did. 

Burying his nose into the collar of the parka Russell inhaled the smell of Dad and Old Spice that had always meant safety and comfort to him, and that was when the tears finally broke free. With a heavy sob, Russell sank to his knees and slung his arms around him, and rocking back and forth he cried in big, painful sobs that echoed through the silent darkness around him. 

Russell had no idea how much time had passed when suddenly the headlights of a car came into view. For a crazy moment he wanted to believe it was the black van and he would get his father back, but it was a red estate car that came to halt in front of him. The doors opened and Russell looked at a couple in their thirties, and a man...

“Mike...” It was a coarse whisper, his throat raw from crying. “Uncle Mike!” 

He staggered to his feet and at that instant Mike had reached him. Russell fell into his arms and burst into tears again. 

“They have my dad!” Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes he leaned back. “They have my dad! Mike, what's happening here? Who were these people? Mike, we gotta do something! We gotta follow them!”  
“Russell.” Mike firmly closed his hands around Russell's shoulders. “We have no idea where they went. We gotta get back, we gotta get you back to safety. Then we figure out what to do.”  
Russell stared at him out of bleak and desolate eyes. “But...”  
“Russ, I'm sorry, but right now, we can't do anything. Believe me, I want him back too. But we have to figure out what to do. It all happened too fast.” 

Mike draped an arm around Russell's shoulder and steered him towards the car. Bjarte got behind the wheel again while Erle got into the other car. 

“Mike.” Russell stared at his uncle, his hand closed around Mike's arm. “Who the fuck are these people? What do they want with my dad? What the fuck is going on?”

“Russ...” Mike sighed and pressed his lips together for a second, then he met his nephew's eyes with an unhappy frown. “I'm afraid we got some serious explaining to do.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak Old Norse, sadly, so you I can only offer you the subtitles, so to speak. From what I know, Old Norse sounds a lot like Icelandic, which has changed very little since the Viking times. You can listen to some of it [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lq0aIsiZ44o)
> 
> * * *

If Russell had seen Axl’s and Ty’s tear-stained faces when he came stumbling in through the door, he hadn’t shown it. He had fallen on to the sofa and hadn’t looked at anyone, not even at Erle when she pressed a coffee into his hands. 

Now it was shortly after midnight, and Russell was still sitting on the sofa in Bjarte’s and Erle’s living room. He was clutching the mug of coffee gone cold between his hands and stared into the empty air. 

The others looked at them in worried silence. Ever since Mike had started to explain, Russell had fallen more and more silent, and now he was as if turned into stone. 

“Russ.” Mike said down next to him. “I’m sorry this all comes crashing down on you like this.”  
Russ didn’t react.  
“Russell?” Mike leaned forward to look at his nephew’s face. “Russ?”  
But Russell seemed totally catatonic. The only thing that moved were his eyelids.

With a heavy sigh, Mike closed a hand around Russell’s shoulder. That, finally, got through to him, and Russell slowly turned his head to look at Mike.

“Russell, I...”  
“Why?” His voice was completely dead.  
“Why what?” Mike asked cautiously.  
“Why are you...” Russell hesitated for a moment. “Why are you still not telling me everything?”  
Mike shook his head. “Russell, I told you everything.”

Now Russell shook his head as well. “What is it that you can’t admit?” Russell nervously licked his lips, a gesture that looked exactly like what Anders would do.  
“There is nothing more to admit, Russ.”  
“Those... those freaks.” Russell rubbed his thumbs along the rim of his mug. “They were talking about gods, too. And you... you said it’s over, but why are you still... I thought once you left that crazy sect... you can tell me the truth, you know?”

Mike swallowed, his lips pressed together, and shook his head again. “Russell, this isn’t some sort of sect. We were vessels of gods...”  
Finally, Russell snapped. “Why do you still keep telling me this shit?!” He suddenly screamed. “Why can’t you tell me the fucking truth!”  
Mike leaned back with a small shake of his head and a nervous little shrug. “Russell I am telling you the truth!”  
“Then stop pretending you’re Norse gods!”  
“I’m not pretending anything! It’s the fucking truth!”  
“Yeah, and Santa lives in Greenland!”  
“Russell...” Mike broke off and ran both hands through his hair.

In the silence that followed, Ratatosk suddenly jumped from the bookshelf. He landed on the armrest on the sofa and looked at Russell. Russell looked back with an unmoving face. 

“[ _If you do not believe the words of your own blood-kin, will you believe mine?_ ]”

The mug slid out of Russell’s fingers, the coffee spilling out and seeping into the carpet. Then he slowly, very slowly, got up, took a few steps backwards and upon reaching the doorframe, turned around and stormed out. The door fell shut behind him. 

Mike was about to get up but Olaf gestured at him to stay. He left, put on his jacket and took the parka Russell had come back with, as well.

Russell was standing next to the door, arms slung around him and shoulders hunched. He was staring at nothing again and didn’t acknowledge Olaf’s presence, even as he slowly stepped beside him and wordlessly draped the parka around Russell’s shoulders. Then Olaf stepped back a little again and leaned against the wall.

After a moment, Russell slowly slipped his arms into the parka and pulled the zipper up. Olaf didn’t fail to notice that he buried his nose into the collar. 

“Why?” He finally asked in a whisper.  
“Because,” Olaf replied simply, keeping his voice low. “It’s the way things are.”  
“Why me?”  
“Because you are the son of a former god vessel. And believe me, we would have gladly left you in blessed ignorance, but we didn’t have a choice about it.”  
“Then it’s not real.”  
“What isn’t?”  
“Everything. Nothing. Me.”  
“Why aren’t you real anymore?”

Russell kept staring ahead. 

“I thought I was someone special,” he finally said. “I thought I knew who I was. I thought I was someone with talent and promise. I was proud of who I was. And now... it’s nothing. It isn’t me. I never was. It was just some god snapping his fingers.”  
“That’s not true, Russ.” Olaf pushed himself off the wall and walked to his side. “It has always been you. Bragi has blessed you with those talents. Before you were born. But what you made of that gift, what you used it for, that’s entirely you, Russell.”  
Russell shrugged.  
“There are a lot of prodigies around, all sorts of people with very special talents, with gifts for certain things. Who can say if that’s a fluke or the blessing of a deity? And now answer me this, Russell.”

Olaf waited until Russell finally looked at him. 

“Is it really so bad that someone up there thought you were so special to him that he gifted you with something no one else has? He gave this to you, and no one else. Is that really worth nothing?”  
Russell shrugged, but his face was no longer devoid of any feelings. He looked rather thoughtful now.  
“That gift is a part of you. It always was, and it will always be.”  
“But I’m no one special! I would never have been like this if I hadn’t been... his... son.”  
“Maybe not, but you are. There’s no two ways about it.”  
Another shrug was the only answer Russell gave him.  
“And now answer me another thing, and then I’ll leave you in peace. If you hadn’t been the son of Bragi, and he hadn’t given you his blessings, you would be a different person, that’s true. But think of this: If your father, Anders Johnson, had wanted you to be special and have a special gift, and had snapped his fingers to give it to you, would it be worth nothing?”

Russell looked up at him with a frown. Olaf looked back with a gentle smile. 

“Or would it be something precious to cherish that he gave to you out of love?”  
His lips parted, Russell looked at Olaf. He blinked a few times, then a tear fell from the lashes of his left eye, followed by another on the right side. “It would,” he whispered. 

“I know it’s hard to take in, Russ. We all have gone through that on our twenty-first birthdays. I know that the world will never be the same.” Then he draped an arm around Russell and pulled him close. “We all know how you’re feeling now, Russell. And you will get all the backup you need form us to come to grips with this.”  
Russell wiped a hand across his eyes and nodded.  
“Think you’ll be okay? Not today, maybe. But... at one point?”  
This time, Russell nodded. “I think... I mean... I don’t have a choice about this, do I?”  
“No.” Olaf hugged him and then let go again. “No, you don’t.”

When Russell and Olaf came back, everyone was looking at Russell with a sad and worried frown. But Russell looked at no one but the squirrel sitting on the armrest of the sofa. He slowly sat down and the squirrel tilted his head.

“Ratatosk?”  
“[ _That is who I am. So you seem to hold knowledge in higher regards than those other big half-wits._ ]”  
“[ _They prefer to think the world is only what you see, not what it really is._ ]”

“He speaks Old Norse?” Torleif stared at Russell, then at his family.  
“He is Bragi’s charge,” Olaf replied simply.

Ratatosk, despite being only a squirrel with black, beady eyes, managed to give Thorleif a haughty look. Russell followed his eyes and he looked at Torleif with a tired shake of his head. 

“I’m sorry I had to lie to you,” the light elf said.  
“I get why you did it, though.”  
“Still...”  
Russell huffed out a mirthless chuckle. “Are you even gay?”  
Torleif shrugged. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Russell looked at his hands again. 

“But what happens now?” He finally asked and looked up again. “What are we going to do?”  
“I have no idea,” Mike replied with deep frown. “We don’t know who they are, where they could be, or where they took him. Or what they want him for.”  
Russell narrowed his eyes and blinked slowly a few times. “They... they talked about the Yggdrasil.”

Suddenly the light elves were all ears, and Ratatosk tensed up as well.

“What did they say?” Fenja asked.  
“They talked about... Russell closed his eyes. “They talked about restoring her.”  
“Restore her?” Fenja exchanged a confused look with the other three. “How? And why?”  
“I don’t know,” Russell replied. “They were talking Old Norse too, because... I guess they had no idea I could understand them. Well...” He shrugged. “Mostly. They talked fast, though, and I didn’t get everything. But that’s what they said. The Yggdrasil, and something about restoring her, and a priestess, and the borders.”

“Restoring...” Bjarte shook his head. “But what...”  
“But does that mean...” Erle curled her hands into fists. “Does that mean they...”  
“I guess.” Bjarte looked up. “I think we know where they are headed.”

The Johnsons all looked at them with anxious faces. Russell got up and joined their ranks again and Ratatosk hopped onto Axl’s right shoulder. 

“They’re taking him to Jotunheim,” Bjarte said. “But it is...”  
“Hang on,” Erle said and left the room.

“Jotunheim? What the fuck is going on?” Johan asked. He had hitherto kept himself in the background.  
Russell looked up, and seemed to notice his presence for the first time. “Who are you?”  
“Johan Johnson. I’m your...”

The effect that these words had was absolutely unforeseeable. Russell, gentle, kind and well-mannered Russell, suddenly turned into a berserk. His face distorting with hate-fuelled rage he went at Johan like a fiend and planted a punch on Johan’s chin before anyone could react.

“You asshole!” He screamed. “You bloody bastard!”  
“Jesus Christ in a fucking bottle!” Johan barely dodged the second attack and Axl hastily clamped his arms around Russell’s midriff.  
“How dare you even show your face again!” Russell was struggling in Axl’s grip and Axl, despite his size and strength, had a hard time keeping him there. “I'll kill you for what you did to my father!”  
“For fucking Christ’s sake...” Johan stared at his grandson with an expression of dismay and disbelief while he rubbed his chin.  
“You hurt him, and you humiliated him! You burned his toys and you beat the shit out of him! For years! For fucking years! I'll kill you!! I'll fucking kill you!!”  
“For fuck’s sake!” Axl swung Russell around so he was between him and Johan. 

“I'll kill him!” Russell struggled so hard that Axl was cursing under his breath.  
“You little runt..?” Johan asked with a shaky chuckle.  
Olaf smacked his son over the head. “That’s going to help calm him down, you twat.”  
Johan shot him a venomous glare, but kept his mouth shut.

“Russell, for fuck’s sake!” Mike positioned himself in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. “Get your shit together! Johan is here because he can help us; he has met giants and talked to them! I know he’s an asshole, but he’s actually here to help.”  
Russell stopped struggling, but his face was still a mask of fury.  
“I can totally sympathise with you, though,” Ty said and crossed his arms. 

Russell began to relax, but his eyes were still burning with anger when Axl finally released him. He looked at Johan with such contempt that the older Johnson actually took a step back and defensively crossed his arms. 

“Sorry for calling you a runt, lad.”  
Russell looked as if he was hard pressed not to spit into Johan’s face.

Someone cleared their throat, and the Johnsons all looked up to see the four light elves stare at them with completely blank expressions. Erle stood in the doorframe and was clutching her laptop like a shield.

“Sorry,” Mike said and cleared his throat. “Where were we?”  
“We were...” Erle entered the room and shot a few wary glances at Russell and Johan. “We were... talking about the Yggdrasil.”  
“Right.” Mike cast a look towards the youngest and the oldest Johnson, respectively. “Go on.”

Erle sat down at the table at the other end of the room and opened her laptop while the others gathered around her. She opened the browser and went to Google Maps.

“We are here.” She pointed at Trondheim. “And about four hours to the south is the Jotunheimen National Park.”

“And this is where the Yggdrasil rests. It is, of course, not really there. The Yggdrasil is not in Midgard, but neither is she in the other realms. The roots of the Yggdrasil touch all realms, connect them, and thus, hold the world together.”  
“And what...” Mike frowned at the screen. “I’m afraid I can’t really follow.”  
“The Yggdrasil is the centre of the world, of all nine realms,” Erle explained. “And from where she stands, one can access the other realms. Yggdrasil... well I guess you could say she is a realm all by herself.”  
“And if the giants say that the Yggdrasil has to be restored then that means...” Bjarte looked at the screen and back at the Johnsons. “It means that the borders are not there, and that no one can leave Midgard.”

The Johnsons exchanged a few looks and shrugs.

“But if no one can cross the borders, how did you come here?” Olaf leaned forward.  
The eyes of the elves darkened. “That is another story and I am not sure it is one you need to know.”  
“Jesus...” Olaf leaned back again. “I just asked.”  
Erle nodded and looked back at the screen. “But if that is what the giants say, and they think that the Yggdrasil has to be restored, then this is where they will be going.”

“In the middle of fucking nowhere,” Ty said slowly. “How do they know where it is?”  
“Oh, you can see her from here,” Fenja said with a smile. “If you know what to look for.”  
“But you can’t see the Yggdrasil herself,” Torleif added. “Since she is not in this realm, you can only see her shadow.”  
“And this is where you will find her.” Erle zoomed in on the centre of the national park.

The Johnsons stared at the screen. 

“I don’t see any fucking tree,” Axl finally said.

“Then bear with me.” Erle took a screenshot and opened that in MS paint. With a few strokes of the mouse she coloured the snowy areas green and filled the gaps between them with brown.

The Johnsons stared at the screen in disbelief. Now it was so glaringly obvious that no one of them could explain why they hadn’t seen it at once. 

“The shadow of the Yggdrasil,” Erle said. “And on Tjønnholstind on the opposite of the lake you will find her. And the borders to her realm, the one that connects with all nine realms.” Then she looked up at the Johnsons. “And that’s where the giants are taking Anders.”


	19. Chapter 19

It was Russell who broke the silence after a moment.

“What do you mean, that’s where they taking him?”

“Because they said they want to restore the Yggdrasil and...” Erle broke off and bit her lip.  
“And what?” Russell blinked hastily. “What? What has the Yggdrasil to do with my father?”

Erle looked helplessly up at the Johnsons. 

“You know, that’s what we want to know as well.” Mike looked around but everyone else was as stumped as he was. “We obviously have missed something here as well.”  
“But...” Bjarte shook his head with a shrug. “They said...”  
“What?” Russell’s voice suddenly sounded a little frayed around the edges. “What did they say?”

“Russell said they talked about healing and restoring the Yggdrasil,” Fenja finally said. “Anders said the giants talked about wanting his blood. And the woman who called Anders regarding the exchange mentioned a sacrifice.”

Russell went as pale as a shroud. “They will kill him...” He shook his head, and staggered back. “They will kill him! We can’t... we can’t let them do that!”  
“Russell...” Torleif began.  
“They will kill him!” Russell took another step back, his eyes so wide they were almost completely white. “We gotta follow them! We know where they went! For god’s sake, we can’t let them kill him!”  
“Russell we can’t just drive down there and climb the Tjønnholstind!”

“I don’t fucking care! I can’t sit here staring at the walls while they kill my father!” Russell was close to hysteric now; his voice so high-pitched is was husky.  
“Russell, the Tjønnholstind is...”  
“I don’t fucking care!”  
“You need mountaineering equipment for that!” Torleif took his shoulders and almost shook him. “That isn’t a...”

Russell pushed him away so violently that Torleif staggered into the table. “I don’t fucking care!” He screamed. “Then I will get the fucking equipment! Tomorrow!”

“Russell...” Mike started.  
Russell spun around, and his panic was suddenly accompanied by deep hurt and betrayal. “Mike...” he whispered and shook his head. “You can’t just let that happen...”  
“But if it is as Torleif said then we will never make it and I don’t know what else to do!”  
“We sure as fuck won’t make it if we don’t try!!”  
“And don’t you think I don’t know that!” Mike spread his arms. “He’s your father, he’s my brother! I want him back as much as you do!”  
“Then we gotta do something!” Russell screamed back, tears streaming down his face. “We know where they took him, we gotta try!”

In the silence that followed it was Johan, of all people, who finally spoke again.

“The lad is right, you know,” he said. “Sitting here telling ourselves we won’t make it does sweet fuck all. But if we need to buy shit, then we gotta wait until tomorrow anyway, so we might want to think of what we do when we catch up with them.”  
“Fuck if I know that,” Mike gave back, then he looked at Russell. “Can you remember anything else? And do you know if they had guns?”

Russell went even paler now and it looked as if he was about to faint. Then he shook his head. Ty stepped to his side and took one of Russell’s elbows and led his nephew towards the sofa. Russell fell down and slumped forward, crossing his hands at the back of his neck. After a moment, he began rocking back and forth. 

“Dad...” He whispered, dropping his arms to sling them around his chest, and kept rocking back and forth. “Not my dad... please, not my dad...”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Mike suddenly said into the strained silence. “I promised Anders we wouldn’t give in without a fight!”  
“And we won’t.” Axl pressed his lips together and sighed so hard his shoulders heaved. His face was grim. “We’re going to get him back. And if we have to crawl up a mountain then that’s what we do.”  
Russell stopped rocking and looked up at them.  
“Russ...” Axl nodded. “We’re going to get him back.”  
“I hunt,” Bjarte said and got up. “I have a hunting rifle and a shotgun, you can have these. Just in case.”  
“Good.” Russell looked up. “When do we leave?”  
“We?” Axl looked at Mike.

Russell dropped his arms and slowly, laboured onto his feet again. “You expect me to sit here on my ass while my dad is about to get killed out there?”  
“Russell...” Torleif ventured cautiously. “He wanted you to be safe. He didn’t want you to come to harm or be in danger...”  
“I’m sure as fuck he doesn’t want to die either!” Russell’s face darkened in anger. “I’m going, and you can do whatever the fuck you want!”  
“But why?” Torleif opened his arms and dropped them again. “Why can’t you stay here and be safe so your father...”  
“CAN DIE IN PEACE?” Russell’s voice broke as everyone flinched at his scream. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!”

For a moment, no one moved or spoke. Then Russell took a deep shaky breath and ran both hands through his unevenly cropped hair. He didn’t even seem to notice it.

“I speak Old Norse. I can understand what they say even if they think I don’t. I don’t give a fuck about what you think I should be doing. I’m going.”  
“Russell.” Erle’s voice was sharp. “We’re bound by oath to protect you. You’re not only putting your own life on the line!”  
Russell swallowed. “Sorry,” he said tonelessly. “But that’s not my problem.”

“So be it.” Fenja suddenly stepped forward, then turned to look at the other light elves. “We swore to protect Bragi’s charge and his wellbeing, and we failed once already. We can’t just stand by and let his father be killed by giants.”

Bjarte, Erle and Torleif looked at each other, and finally, Bjarte sighed in resignation.

“No, we can’t,” he finally said. “But we will have to break our backs to catch up with them.”

The grim faces of the Johnsons were the only answer he got.

* * *

They tried to get some sleep that night. It didn’t really work, but even if their minds didn’t rest, their bodies did. 

During breakfast, they brooded over Erle’s laptop again. 

“There are two routes onto the Tjørnholstind”, Fenja said as she pointed at the map. “The longer, easier route is from the east. It’s not as steep, not that much climbing until you reach the ridge itself. But... well... depending on your fitness and equipment...” She cleared her throat. “If you’re not a trained hiker and don’t have good equipment, then that could easily take two days.”  
“And then there’s the northern route,” Bjarte went on. “Where you have to cross the Gjende by boat and land on the other side of Memurubu. But that... that is a climb. You need mountaineering equipment, so I doubt this is the route that the giants would take.”  
“Which means if we take that route, we could catch up with them.” Mike leaned forward.

“I still don’t understand what you are hoping to achieve,” Erle said with a tired voice. “Russell said that the car that brought him back was a van with several people. There might be more people waiting for them. They outnumber us greatly. What can we actually do?”  
“We can... not give up on our brother,” Axl said darkly.  
“He wouldn’t want you to die a meaningless death together with him!”  
“No he wouldn’t.” Mike gave her a stern look. “But he’s our brother, and we won’t give up without a fight.”

The four light elves exchanged some very unhappy looks. 

Mike straightened up. “Look, I get why you’re upset,” he said. “And we wouldn’t drag you into this. But the fact is, we need your help. I’d still prefer you help us without being forced to.”

All eyes came to rest on Russell who gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders. “It’s not my fault,” he said hoarsely. “It’s not my fault Bragi sent you here, and it’s not my fault the giants got me anyway. I would release you from that oath so you can stay here, but I won’t sit here and let you coddle me while my father is out there and about to die.”  
“Release us from our oath?” Torleif said with a incredulous little chuckle.  
“You cannot release us,” Bjarte said. “It is not to you we made this oath.”  
Russell shrugged, but he held Bjarte’s gaze until the latter looked away. 

“Let’s get going,” Fenja finally said with a sigh. “We need to figure out how to get there.”

The challenge of getting there wasn’t necessarily the journey in itself. They only had two cars, and would need a lot of extra baggage as they were about to hike up a mountain in the Norwegian Fjells. It took them a lot of trying and moving back and forth until they were all so rubbed raw by each other that they just couldn’t stop yelling at each other anymore. But in the end they had finally figured out how they could fit into two cars and they left Trondheim shortly after noon; five Johnsons, four light elves, a squirrel and half the contents of a local outdoor equipment store.

* * *

The only four people who could be squeezed into the backseat of Bjarte’s estate car, even though that was technically one too many, were Russell, Torleif, Erle and Johan. To say that the atmosphere was tense was an understatement.

At least they had made sure that Russell had the window seat behind the driver and Erle was sitting next to him, so that he wouldn’t have to sit next to his hated grandfather or his recent crush. Though, to be honest, the way Russell looked at Torleif suggested that he was getting over that crush pretty quickly.

Since there was no safe topic of conversation Russell was left to his own thoughts, and soon after they had left the outskirts of Trondheim behind he rested his head against the windowpane and closed his eyes. 

The panic, the shock, the terror he had been in since last night, together with the bone-deep exhaustion that had settled in his body, left him in a mental state where he could do nothing about the memories that washed over him now like a flash flood. 

In the end, he didn’t even fight them anymore. Even the worst of memories were better than the present he found himself in, and the future it might hold.

* * *

_He hears the sound from the bathroom. He knows what that sound means, and his belly hurts. Closing his eyes he squeezes himself between the bookshelf and the wall, pressing Al against him while he tries not to listen. Maybe they will forget him this time._

_“I’m done,” he hears Kevin’s voice, muffled by the wall. “Can bring the boy, April.”_  
_“Great!”_

_Footsteps._

_...Go away Mum, go away, I’m not here, Al, turn into a real alligator and make her go away..._

_The door opens._

_“Russell?”_

_...I’m not here..._

_“Russell! Stop hiding in that corner and come here! Kevin is going to give you a haircut!”_  
_“I don’t want a haircut.”_  
_An angry snort. “I don’t care if you want one or not. You need one.”_

_Footsteps. Her hand closes around his arm and he drags him out of the snug little corner. She takes Al and drops him onto the bed. He reaches for him, but she pulls his hand away._

_“He’s going to be covered in hairs. You know, you’re really too old to run around with that plush toy all the time anyway.”_

_...Al is my friend..._

_“Come here, big boy.”_

_Kevin smiles. He wears no shirt, his hair is short, so very short, almost gone, and he has that machine in his hand, and it is already buzzing. He hates that sound. It makes the hairs on his body curl up._

_“Come on, sit down here. We’ll be done in a minute.”_  
_“I don’t want a haircut...”_  
_“Nonsense.” Kevin pulls him over and presses him into the chair. “You want to look like a girl?”_  
_“I don’t want a...” A rough big hand takes his chin and holds his head in place. The buzzing is so loud, it hurts his ears, and makes his teeth hum. “I don’t...”_

_And then the machine is there, the ugly buzz so loud in his ears that they ring, the scraping across the skin on his head and his hair, it falls down, like feathers, or snowflakes, it brushes the skin of his face and his nose, soft, falling, gone... a few single hairs stick to the wetness on his cheeks and tickle and burn and his head starts to feel cold, the back of his neck is cold, too, and..._

_“Kevin!”_  
_“What? Oh shit!”_

_The machine hums and buzzes, like some hungry monster, waiting to eat his hair. Eat it right off his head._

_“God, Kevin you idiot! Was that really necessary?”_  
_“Jesus, I forgot!”_  
_“Will you look at him!”_  
_“I am looking at him, Christ, April, I’m sorry, okay? It’s not as if I could do anything about it now, can I? Or do you want me to switch to twelve now?”_  
_“Christ! How can you not see that!”_  
_“You know what, next time you do it, why don’t you?”_

_She just throws up her hands, and leaves, and Kevin presses his head forward and the scrape is at the back of his head, and the machine is eating his hair there, too, and it falls and tickles and it hums and scratches..._

_“There.” Kevin’s large hand brushes hairs off his neck and shoulders. “Sorry, I forgot to put the length back. But it doesn’t look half bad, actually. And it’ll grow back. You’ll be due for another haircut in no time!” Then he looks him in the face and his eyebrows draw together and his mouth turns into a line and then his voice is loud again and hard._

_“Jesus Christ, boy! It’ll grow back, stop crying like a girl about your hair, you little pansy!” Then he storms out and they argue and yell and say things he doesn’t understand. And he’s scared._

_“Your boy’s a bloody wuss, you know that?”_  
_“Well I’d be upset too if you did that to me!”_  
_“Take him to the hairdresser next time!”_  
_“You know what they charge?”_  
_“I know what they charge, that’s why I’m doing it!”_

_He climbs onto the chair and looks into the mirror. There are still hairs sticking to his face because he still cries, and he feels new tears, and he’s scared because when Kevin sees him cry he will yell at him again but his hair... it’s gone... there’s nothing left, there’s just a shadow that looks as if his head is dirty and he doesn’t even want to touch it, it’s gone... he just cut it all off...._

_The arguing voices come back._

_“What? Are you fucking serious?”_  
_“I am not letting him out of the house like this, Kevin!”_  
_“Two weeks?”_  
_“As long as it takes to grow back, long enough that no one thinks we just shaved his head!”_  
_“And if we shave his head? He’s a boy! Why shouldn’t he have short hair like his dad?”_  
_“Will you shut the fuck up? What do you think people will say to me when they see him like that?”_  
_“That he looks like a boy and not a girl?”_  
_“A kid with a shaved head doesn’t look manly, you bloody macho! He just looks ugly and stupid, as if we don’t have the money for a hairdresser and fuck it up when we do it ourselves!”_  
_“Rub it in why don’t you!”_  
_“Then you shouldn’t have fucked it up so hard! He is not going to kindergarten like that! The other kids will make fun of him because he looks ugly, and stupid, and the adults will give me funny looks and whisper behind their hands and before you know it we have another social worker here sniffing through our laundry and breathing down our neck!”_

_Then they see him stand on the chair, and Kevin yells at him and Mum yells too, and then she tells him to take his clothes off and gives him a shower and she snaps at him when he looks at the heap of hair lying on the bathroom floor._

* * *

Russell opened his eyes and stared out of the window. He hadn’t remembered anything from back then so vividly in years. But honestly, it wasn’t rocket science to know what had triggered it. It already felt years ago as well when in fact, it had been only yesterday. Yesterday morning. And at the end of that day he had been thrown out of a van and into a world that would never be the same anymore.

They had entered the room where they had held him, two of them, one with a bag, and the other with a knife, telling him that someone needed a warning shot. 

Then one had dragged him to the chair, planted him onto it and held on to his shoulders. The other, the one with the knife, had shrugged, almost apologetically. They told him not to struggle so he wouldn’t get hurt. It was then that Russell had realised that they weren’t after his blood. 

He had closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as the rough, large hands had dug into his hair and hacked off strand after strand with a knife that felt less than sharp. They had stuffed the chopped-off hair into a plastic bag, and had left him alone without another word. And still, before and after that, they had treated him fairly decently, and at that time he had been more confused and humiliated than scared. 

It suddenly made more sense than he liked. They had sent it to his dad. As proof that they really had him. And his dad had arranged the exchange so that they would take him instead of Russell. And he realised that he could be lucky it was only hair and not a finger. The thought made him shudder. 

_“I want to have hair like Thor.”_  
_“You want to have hair like Thor? Well. Okay.”_

He still remembered that strange, hot tingling in his belly. And the feeling of being pushed against a wall that wasn’t there. The voice that had stayed calm. The eyes that had remained soft.

_“You were so upset, and you said you’re ugly, which isn’t true, by the way, and that you looked stupid and that you don’t want to be like this... And so I thought... I don’t know if this makes you feel better, but you’re my son, and you don’t have to go through this alone, and you know what, if you still think you look ugly and stupid, than we can look ugly and stupid together. And we can let it grow back together.”_

Russell blinked his tears away and closed his eyes again. He dropped the hand that had sneaked into the unevenly cropped remnants of his hair. Why was he thinking about stupid hair anyway? 

“It will grow back,” Erle said, and Russell almost burst out laughing.  
“As if I care about that!” His voice broke, and he wiped his tears away with an angry move. “I don’t give a shit about that stupid, fucking hair!”

Russell dropped his head against the windowpane again. “I don’t give a flying fuck,” he whispered. “I just want my dad...”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark elves are creatures of evil and mischief, and they are the ones who travel to the mortal realm to give people nightmares. They don’t play nice. Just thought I’d mention that here.

Apparently, neither the giants nor the dark elves were in a hurry. The van made its way south through the night at a steady pace, and Anders stared out of the window into the empty darkness outside. 

His thoughts kept circling back to Russ. His shocked face. His scream. And the fact that he had been abandoned out there. But Mike had promised to pick him up. Take him to safety. And that was all that mattered.

Anders kept thinking of his brothers, too. He had refused farewell hugs and has just gotten into the car. He regretted it, but he had known, and was still sure of it, that if he had so much as touched any of them he wouldn’t have been able to keep himself together. 

He still didn’t want to die, but wherever they were headed, once he was there, it would be over. But at least Russell was safe. He wouldn’t be happy, Anders knew it was no mere vanity to think that Russell would have a hard time adjusting to a life alone. Well, he wouldn’t be completely alone, but he was orphaned now. Would he keep the house?

Back then Anders had made his will after he had recovered from his flu, and after realising there was someone who still needed to be taken care of if he ever left the picture. He had talked it through with Dawn and Ty, making them Russell’s legal guardians, to take care of him and manage his finances and J:PR until he reached adulthood. Now that Russell was an adult he wouldn’t need that anymore, technically, but Ty and Dawn had promised him back then that they would always be there for him, no matter how old he would be, if something ever happened to Anders.

And now Russell would return into an empty house, filled with things that belonged to a father who was no longer there. It would be hard for him, especially since he and Russell had always been so close. 

His head resting against the window Anders watched his breath fog against the glass. No one in the van spoke, it was warm and dark, and the soft humming of the engine made him droopy. Apparently his mind and body were either unable or unwilling to be caught up in permanent terror and he had come to accept the fact that he was about to die. 

And by now, the longer he thought about it, the more realised that he just wanted to have this over with. And tired as he was, because he hadn’t slept properly since Saturday, he actually managed to doze off for a bit. He was awoken by someone shaking his shoulder and yelling what sounded like Norwegian obscenities into his ear. 

Anders was the last to leave the van, but no one paid him any notice. There was a heated argument going on between the dark elf woman who had been in the van and another woman, dressed in white outdoor gear, who was taller and more heavily built. 

The taller woman stopped short when she noticed Anders, and her face turned into a thunderstorm. Anders was left in no doubt that she gave the dark elf hell for whatever reason. 

Then she yelled at the giants who had been in the van as well, and got a few apologetic answers and defensive gestures. Anders was left completely in the dark, even if he was clearly the topic of the conversation. 

It was still dark, had to be in the small hours of the night, and Anders began to freeze. 

“Hey, can I get back into the van?” He asked the nearest giant. “I’m freezing my ass off here.”

He was completely ignored. 

Casting another look around, he slowly inched towards the van. Still no reaction. He stepped closer yet, and when still nobody complained, he slunk back in and huddled into the backseat. The door was still open and the warmth had vanished, but at least he was out of the wind now. 

Outside, a heated discussion was still going on, the white-dressed giantess clearly fuming with anger.

Another van arrived some time later, and while the giantess and the dark elf woman were still engaged in a heated argument, they weren’t yelling at each other anymore. Anders watched more people disembark, more giants, as he guessed, but there were also a middle-aged woman and what had to be her two teenage daughters, and for some reason these didn’t look like giants at all.

The first grey light of dawn was beginning to creep across the mountain tops and flowed into the valley. So against all expectations, he apparently was about to see another sunrise after all.

“Bragi?”  
Anders looked up to see the white-dressed giantess poke her head into the van. “Anders?” He offered.  
She smiled and nodded. “Anders.”

For some reason, she looked oddly familiar. And then it suddenly clicked. 

_Oh fuck no..._

But at that moment, she had apparently recognised him as well and he was in no doubt that the words she spoke now were some version or another of: _Fancy running into you again here._   
Her smile widened as she beckoned him to come outside. 

Once outside, he could see that everyone else had put on some serious outdoor gear.   
Great. And he didn’t even have his parka anymore. But clearly, that had at least been part of the discussion, because the giantess pointed very accusingly at Anders while she exchanged a few words with the dark elf woman. 

Another giant approached now, and he carried a thick, woollen blanket. The giantess handed that to Anders.

“I guess that is as good as it gets,” he said as he draped it around his shoulders. It was dusty and smelled of mildew. So much for going out in style. 

While everyone was getting ready the giantess came back to him and offered him a thermos bottle. Anders unscrewed the lid and upon pouring, registered a smell of more than just tea. It was tea with rum, and it dispelled some of the cold. Next she handed him what he first thought was a muesli bar but what turned out to be one of those energy bars that high performance athletes used. 

A dark premonition began to rise in Anders’s mind as he looked at the base of the mountains rising up before them. The whole silhouette of the ridge looked faintly familiar too and with that realisation another one hit him instantly. He had been here before. And then, suddenly, he knew how and where he was about to die. He would be dragged up these mountains into an amphitheatre spitting out a minor glacier. Where, at the very back, the mummy of an ancient, dead ash tree was hidden from human eyes.

His own mother had sent him to his death fifteen years ago, and now it had finally caught up with him.

* * *

The first few hours, up until noon, weren’t that bad. His shoes weren’t as badly suited as they might have been had he gone for style alone, and the blanket and exertion kept him somewhat warm. The giants were keeping a close eye on him, however. As if he would try and make a run for it in this terrain with nothing but gravel and scree underfoot.

But Anders wasn’t a hill walker, he had never been one for physical exercise, and with noon time, he was exhausted and began to stumble. The giantess, clearly the leader of the whole expedition, called for a pause and made Anders drink more of the tea and fed him another of the high energy bars. 

It wasn’t pity or compassion. It was a sheer necessity. They had to keep him alive until they reached the summit, no matter the state he was in by then. They continued the climb as soon as Anders had gotten his breath back. 

The ground became more steep and the footing more difficult after the break. And something else was now bothering him too: Anders was now, on top of everything else, suffering from the Return of the Tea.

_What the fuck, who needs dignity anyway._ He caught up with the dark elf lady. “Sorry, but I need a piss.”

She stopped with a snort and looked at him with contempt and Anders shrugged. With a shake of her head she called for a halt, but Anders saw that several other giants took the chance to deal with their own business as well. Anders walked a few steps away and wondered if he would even be able to. It was cold enough to make his dick try to hide in his pubes. 

He had just let go when he heard steps, and felt someone step far too close for him to be comfortable with it. That someone looked over his shoulder with a derisive snort and walked away again, leaving Anders fuming with anger and burning with shame.   
When he was done he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes anymore. 

He was so fucking done for. Not even his dick was private around here. And to think that Russell was the only person to have ever seen his dick, the only person whom he wasn’t about to have sex with/had just had sex with, that is. 

It had happened accidentally, of course, as these things usually do. And yet, Anders had discovered that it was far less awkward and uncomfortable than he had imagined it would be.

* * *

_Anders was just about to leave the house to pick Russell up from Colin’s birthday party when the doorbell rang. He opened, to find Carolyn stand there with an apologetic expression on her face, and Russell who was wearing clothes that weren’t his. For a moment he wondered if Russell had had an ‘accident’, but he was eight, for god’s sake... then he noticed that Russell’s hair was plastered to his head._

_“I’m really sorry,” Carolyn said. “There was an accident with a bottle of soda.”_  
 _Anders looked Russell up and down._  
 _“Well, to be honest, it was not completely accidental,” Carolyn went on, but hurried to add: “But it really wasn’t Russell’s fault.”_  
 _Anders shook his head with a smile and Russell slunk past him with an unhappy frown._

_“Really, it wasn’t his fault.” Carolyn handed Anders a plastic bag with Russell’s soiled clothes. “It started with a bottle that had fallen down, and well... it was apparently hilarious that the soda squirted out. And next thing I see is Colin shaking a bottle of soda like crazy and opening it into Russell’s face.” Her face darkened. “I gave him a piece of my mind, but the damage had been done. I’m sorry.”_   
_“Don’t worry about it.” Anders took the bag with a smile. “It’s just soda. Nothing that a shower and a wash can’t deal with.”_

_Carolyn was visibly relieved that Anders was unfazed by the accident and left again._

_Anders turned to Russell. “Upstairs,” he said. “Bathroom.”_

_When Anders entered the bathroom Russell had already taken off the borrowed clothing, which was a little sticky as well, and was just climbing into the bath tub. Anders turned the water on, then handed Russell the shower head before picking up the clothes to throw them into the washing basket._

_“Dad?” Russell turned around the moment Anders straightened up, completely forgetting about the showerhead in his hand._

_Russell was so shocked that it took him a second to drop it again, then he slapped both hands over his mouth as he stared at Anders out of widening eyes._

_Anders blinked the water out of his eyes and looked down at himself, water dripping from his face and hair. Then he looked up at Russell who was staring at him with an expression of terror._   
_Christ, would the boy ever be able to not be afraid of the consequences of a minor mishap? Because that was all it was. And to be honest... it must have looked hilarious. Anders couldn’t help but snort._

_Russell swallowed hard and Anders shook his head, and when he started chuckling, Russell visibly deflated with relief. And then they both simultaneously burst out laughing._

_“Right.” Anders chuckled again as he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off his shoulders. “You were supposed to give yourself a rinse. I didn’t really need a wash.”_   
_Russell smiled crookedly and held the showerhead over his head. Once Anders guessed that most of the sticky soda was rinsed out of Russell’s hair he put the plug in. While Russell sat down in the tub to wait for the water to rise Anders peeled himself out of the rest of his sodden clothing. Even his briefs were soaked._

_And now he was faced with two choices: he could either divest himself of the wet underwear here and expose himself in front of his son or keep them on and waddle into his bedroom to change them there which wasn’t a pleasant prospect, and he would also be making a bloody fuss about it._

_And he had seen Russell’s dick plenty of times. It wasn’t really fair, was it?_

_Anders swallowed once and decided to get rid of the wet briefs. It was a rather unpleasant sensation, wet underwear. And rather relieving to get rid of it._

_Russell looked up and his eyes widened. Anders resisted the urge to cover his crotch with one hand because well, he had taught Russell that his body and his skin were nothing to be ashamed of, even if it was private. And since Russell was naked already...._

_“You’re hairy!”_   
_“Uhm.” Anders tried to smile. “Quite so.”_

_Russell kept staring at his dick for a moment longer, but it was only in innocent, childish curiosity. There wasn’t a trace of judgement in that look._

_Then he looked up again. “Are you going to take a bath, too?”_   
_“I wasn’t going to,” Anders replied._

_But then Russell’s face fell, and what the fuck... he liked a warm bath as much as the next person. Only, he had never shared a tub with someone else._

_...Christ’s sake, get over yourself. It’s your son, not some random dude..._

_And he quickly slid into the tub as well._

_Russell’s grin broadened as he handed Anders the bubble bath and resigning to his fate, albeit with a smile, Anders squeezed a generous amount into the water._   
_Russell giggled in excitement. The almost empty shampoo bottle was turned into an impromptu boat, and the two kept nudging it, making it float back and forth between them. Russell’s happy giggles filled the whole room and made Anders smile. It was impossible not to._

_As he washed Russell’s hair, the boy kneeling in front of him with his back to Anders, he realised that being naked could be pleasant without it involving sex. Russell leaned against him once he had rinsed the shampoo out, and Anders closed an arm around him. Yes, it felt pretty good. Russell’s backside was actually touching his dick, but it was completely irrelevant._

_“Dad?”_   
_“Hm?”_   
_“Can we do this again?”_   
_“What? Bathe together?”_   
_Russell hummed his confirmation._   
_“Sure thing. You don’t have to drench yourself in soda beforehand, though. Or me in water, for that matter._

_Russell giggled. Anders smiled._

* * *

Anders stumbled over a rock and was torn out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw that the ridge he knew they would have to cross wasn’t in any way closer than it had been this morning. If he remembered correctly there was a mountain hut halfway up the summit, and he wondered if they were going to take a break and stay there or if they meant to march through the night to reach the Yggdrasil the next morning. 

The thought alone was exhausting, and Anders closed his eyes for a moment. Someone pushed him between the shoulder blades and gritting his teeth, he got his feet into motion again.


	21. Chapter 21

Apparently, there was some debate going on and the trek of giants, dark elves and what other creatures Anders had no idea about had ground to a halt. Anders was nothing but grateful for the stop. His feet hurt, both from walking and the cold, his muscles ached, his throat was dry and his lungs were burning. He was exhausted, and he had no idea how long he could keep himself going like that.

Around him, a few of the giants made use of the pause to either take a piss either or sit down on various rocks to light a smoke. Adjusting his blanket-cloak, Anders decided that he wouldn’t wait again until his need was so pressing he had to call for another halt and walked a bit away from the group. 

Someone called out to him, but Anders ignored him. He’d be damned if he made a bloody spectacle out of himself when he had to piss. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the steaming little puddle when he heard steps behind him, and he just about managed to zip himself up when someone grabbed his shoulders and tore him around. The giant growled into his face.

“For fuck’s sake!” Anders stepped back. “I was just having a...”  
The impact of the giant’s fits in his midriff was unexpected and the force behind it had Anders all but sail through the air. He landed two steps away from the giant with an audible crack and a searing explosion of pain. 

He couldn’t breathe.

He heard shouts and curses, but everything was muffled as if his head was wrapped in cotton wool. Or maybe concrete would be a better description, as his skull felt as if it was trapped in a vice.

Anders managed a few panicked attempts at breathing, and finally, air rushed back into his lungs, but it was accompanied by a stab of indescribable pain. After a few breaths it lessened, but Anders still found himself unable to move. 

_Christ, I broke my spine... Oh god... I’ll never walk again..._

Not that he would have to do much walking anymore, the giants could probably carry him easily enough. Anders closed his eyes with a groan of pain. His head was throbbing and his chest hurt as if one of the giants was standing on it. 

The world lurched under him, and suddenly he saw Russell stand next to him, little five-year old Russell, clutching Al to his chest. 

_...please don’t die, Dad, please don’t die...._

He felt the footsteps more than he heard them, and someone knelt down beside him. The hallucination vanished and Anders’s eyes fell shut. 

“Bragi.”  
Anders managed to open his eyes again. “I was just having a piss,” he wheezed.  
The dark elf woman looked back with a dark expression. “You were not supposed to stray away from the group.”  
“Jesus...” Anders closed his eyes again. “I was just...”  
“I know,” she interrupted him sharply. “And now get up.”

Anders tried, he really did. But even as he tried to sit up the pain in his ribcage brought tears to his eyes. He could hear the white-dressed giantess argue with someone, and when is vision cleared he could see that it was with the giant who had hit him. She smacked him around the face, but even though he yelled at her, he didn’t strike back. 

“Get up,” the dark elf said. 

Anders tried again, bringing his knees under him, but then a hand appeared in his view and he looked up into the face of the giantess. With another groan Anders took the hand and let himself be pulled onto his feet. He was shaking, but bending down and picking up the blanket was beyond him. With an angry huff, the giantess picked it up for him and draped it around his shoulders. Then she ran a hand down his side. It was a gentle touch, but Anders had to grit his teeth with a painful hiss.

“You broke a rib or two,” the elf lady translated the giantess’s words. “Great. That’ll slow us down even more now.”  
“It’s not as if that was my fault, now, was it?” Anders tried to adjust the blanket, but even moving his arms hurt.   
“You were not supposed to walk away.”  
Anders shot her a dark look. “I don’t particularly like the feeling of having someone stare at my dick while I piss, you know?”  
She emitted a derisive snort. “Not that there is much to stare at.”  
Pressing his lips together, Anders met her eyes. “You’re going to kill me, and you’re dragging me here up a mountain and a glacier, without boots and a jacket, and I’m freezing my ass off and my feet as well, now I hurt like a motherfucker because one of you broke some of my ribs... do you really have to humiliate me as well?”  
She chuckled. “No, I don’t. You’re doing an excellent job of that yourself.”

“Enough!” The giantess snapped at her, and the smile vanished. 

“Listen,” the elf lady said to Anders and stepped closer. “Turn around. Do you see Thomas?”  
Anders turned around and found the giant who had socked him in the guts wave with an unpleasant smile.  
“He is an experienced climber and hiker,” she continued. “And as much as he would love to be there when we open the borders, it will be more important to him that the borders are opened at all, so he can finally go home.”

She reached out and took Anders’s chin in one hand, bringing his face around. She stared into his eyes, her face emotionless but her eyes taking on a cruel harshness. 

“One word from me, and he will turn around and head back towards the van. He will be in Trondheim in a few hours and alert the others who still wait for the signal to come after us. They will turn every stone in that city, they will travel to New Zealand if they have to, and your son and your brothers will vanish from the face of the earth as if they never existed.”   
Anders stared at her, and the terror was back.   
“They are nothing to us.” She let go of Anders’s chin. “You told your son to keep his head down and not try to play smart. I suggest you listen to your own advice.”

Then she turned on her heel and left, leaving Anders to stare at her back with burning eyes and a racing heart. Russell wasn’t safe. He still wasn’t safe. And Anders had to face the possibility that he might never be. At least not before Anders had done his part in whatever scheme the giants and dark elves were planning. 

He took one deep breath, and immediately regretted it. Gritting his teeth he slowly started walking again. 

_...Dad, you gotta hang on..._

Anders blinked and turned his head, to see Russell stand there, looking exactly like he had on the day he had left for Trondheim. When he blinked again, he was gone. 

_I know. If I don’t, you’ll never be safe again._

He stared ahead and forced one foot in front of the other, clutching the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

* * *

The thought of Russell and his brothers kept Anders going for far longer than he would have thought possible, but eventually, at some time during the late afternoon, he was simply at the end of his tether. He had never been so physically exhausted, and never been in so much pain. He had a serious stitch, a broken rib and a throbbing skull, and every muscle in his body was burning. He couldn't feel his feet anymore, and every time he stumbled, his ribcage felt as if someone was hitting him with a two by four.

During another short break in which the dark elf lady and the giantess seemed to be discussing which way to go Anders closed his eyes and focussed on catching his breath back. 

None of the people around him was as exhausted as he was. Christ, he was a city boy. A pencil pusher. An office worker. The last time he had been here his guide had driven him most of the way with a snow mobile. Not to mention that he had had the proper equipment back then. 

But in the end, the giants and dark elves needed him to reach their destination alive, at least to an extent, so they were forced to make a detour to reach another hut that was much closer than the one they had aimed for. 

Anders now made sure he was listening to his own advice and kept his head down. Quite literally so. He didn't look at anyone, not meeting anyone's eyes and tried to hide his face in the blanket that he had slung around his head and body like a cloak. He was so cold that his teeth had stopped rattling a while ago, and he briefly wondered how long it took for a body to succumb to hypothermia. 

The whole group just about fitted into the small cabin, but even as Anders tried to keep himself in the background, the giantess dragged him across the room and in front of the fireplace. He could have wept in relief but he managed to keep his shit together.

There was a blazing fire going and Anders closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain as his feet thawed. Then he was fed another of those energy bars, like everyone else, and the people around him began to settle down, trying to find somewhat comfortable positions to rest and, preferably, get a little sleep. 

Anders didn't know how to sit or lie. It didn't matter which way he tried, his chest hurt like a motherfucker. But at least he wasn't freezing anymore. The warmth of the fire had finally reached his bones, but as tired as he was, he hurt too much to lie down and sleep.

Someone moved across the room and sat down behind him. Anders didn't need to guess who it was. 

“Anders,” the giantess said. “Come close.” 

Since he had no inclination to make anyone angry again, Anders shuffled backwards until their bodies touched. And then, to his surprise, she took him by the shoulders and leaned his body against hers.  
Suddenly, he could relax. He was upright so he could breathe, but he wasn't forced to keep himself upright, so the pain in his chest began to abate. 

“I no want you torture,” she said. “No need.”  
“I die anyway. Does it make a difference?”  
“Yes. I no be cruel monster. I be priest of my people. I do what I must. I no like kill. But my people... need home.”

Anders closed his eyes and tried to keep the terror in his heart at bay. She was talking about his death so casually as if she was talking about what she would make for dinner tomorrow. 

His stomach clenched and his heart raced, and in a vain attempt of trying to take the edge off his fear with confronting himself mercilessly with it, he asked: “What will you do to me?”  
“We need blood,” she replied. “All of it.”  
“So...” Anders swallowed. “I guess you're going to slit my throat.”  
“Yes.”

It didn't work. He felt something inside trying to make him scream. His voice was very small and very unsteady, but he refused to budge. 

“Will it hurt?”  
“Yes.” She ran a hand down his arm. “But only short. Over very quick.”  
“Could you...” Anders licked his lips and closed his eyes. “Do I have to be conscious for that?” The terror forced tears into his eyes that he was forcing back.   
“No...” she gave back somewhat hesitantly.  
“So...” His voice hardly carried anymore. “Could you knock me out before...”  
She paused, then the hand was resting on his shoulder. “Yes. We can do.”  
“Thank you...” It was a suffocated whisper, the tears having been stronger than him. 

No, she wasn't a cruel monster. She maybe even pitied him, but that didn't make it any easier.

* * *

She may have treated him with compassion the night before, but after a breakfast of energy bars, she treated him rather indifferently again. He was a means to an end. She had no need for cruelty, but he was irrelevant as a person. He was a sacrifice. Nothing more. 

He had become rather stiff overnight, even if he had spent it in the priestess's arms, more or less, so he had a hard time getting onto his feet. And it seemed the giantess had had a word with her minions at one point, because now he was at least allowed to have a piss in some sort of privacy.

It wasn't long after they had left the hut that it became clear to the others that Anders was going to slow them down even more. 

The dark elf woman approached him again during the first break to hand him one of the energy bars that Anders was beginning to hate by now.

“Thanks to you and your stupidity we won't make it today, either.”

Anders was tempted to flip her a bird and tell her it wasn't his fault that the giant had anger management issues, but he kept his mouth shut. He had no intention to get socked in the face as well. 

“And in case you need another reminder: Thomas can still be in Trondheim in less than a day.”  
“I didn't.” Anders adjusted his blanket.   
“Just making sure you have the right motivation. Your brothers and your son aren't safe yet, and won't be until we're done here.”  
“I know.”  
“Then you better get going.”

Anders followed. There wasn't much else he could do. Eventually, he was so cold and in so much pain he was slightly delirious. He kept hearing Russell's voice without being able to understand what he said, and occasionally, he would hear his brothers and Olaf, too. 

That afternoon, when he collapsed in front of the fire, he had finally stopped caring. The constant cold and pain had eaten all his other emotions away, and there was nothing left, not even fear. He had finally reached the stage where nothing mattered anymore. Nothing apart from getting through all of this so Russell could be safe again. The thought of him dying... after all of this...

No. He would die ten times over to keep Russell alive and safe. He would have done it back then and he would do it now. Back then, after Russell’s surgery....

His train of thought was abruptly brought to a halt by another vivid memory. Russell in that bed, all that scary sounding and looking machinery... and the little boy covered in tubes and cables and only a chance of survival.

_“You gotta fight, Russ, but I know you’re strong enough. And it’ll be worth it. There’s... there’s so many books to read, and so much to see. You want to see Big Ben, right? I can take you there, no problem. Just a few hours on a plane. We can go and see Big Ben, and while we’re there, we can also go to Denmark, and Sweden and Norway, where the Vikings came from. You’ll love it. Maybe we can even make a cruise in a Viking boat.”_

He had never done it. What with Anders being so happy that Russ was still alive, and Russell oblivious of that promise, he had forgotten all about it and never taken him to see Big Ben. 

He had promised it. He had made Russell a promise, and he hadn’t kept it. 

Anders stared into the fire with tears trickling into his beard. He hadn’t kept it. And that thought hurt even more than knowing he was about to die.


	22. Chapter 22

The Johnsons and their companions reached their destination, Gjendesheim Turisthytte, a sort of base camp at the border of the national park, in the late afternoon. There was no way they would be able to start the ascent that day, so they organized an overnight stay and someone who would ship them across the lake. That was met with a few headshakes, but with enough cash, it was easy enough to make that arrangement. 

They spent the evening in silence, sitting around the fireplace, and only exchanged the occasional sentence regarding their plan for the next day. They went to sleep in bunk beds that were more or less comfortable, and Ratatosk crawled into Axl’s bed and into the crook between his neck and shoulder, where he curled up into a little furry ball.

“Seems he’s taken a shine to you,” Mike said with a smile.  
Axl rolled his eyes with a fatalistic sigh. “Yeah, and I’ll be picking squirrel hairs out of my nose for the rest of the night.”  
“You know, it could have been worse,” Bjarte said with a small grin. “It could have been Tanngniost or Tanngrisnir, the goats that pull Thor’s chariot.”  
“Fuck off,” Axl muttered.  
“Or Saehrimnir, the boar that...”  
“Can you please shut the fuck up?”

It earned him a round of good-natured chuckles, but he had to grin himself. 

Russell was the only one not to smile however, lost as he was in his own, rather unpleasant thoughts. Realising he wasn’t smiling, the others watched him inconspicuously; it wasn’t rocket science to guess that he was thinking about his father. 

_“Dad?”_   
_“Hm?”_   
_“See... I told you... I mentioned that going abroad thing, didn’t I?”_   
_“You did.”_   
_“So, you see... I did a bit of research, and I talked with my teachers. And now I need your okay, I mean... it doesn’t make any sense starting on that paperwork if you say no, right?”_   
_“No, it doesn’t. What exactly is it that you’re after?”_   
_“Well, I figured that I can go for the last two terms, and then it’ll match more or less with the schedules up there so I can have the full credits.”_   
_“Up there?”_   
_“Yeah. Norway.”_

_“Norway... That’s... a long way.”_   
_“Yes, I know. But if I want to do Scandinavian studies I gather the best place to do it is in a Scandinavian country, and I’ll have a really good head start if I’ve been there before, right?”_   
_“Right. But... yeah. Hell. You’re going to be a long way from home. For a long time.”_   
_“Sure, but it’ll be so worth it!”_   
_“I know... I just... well, I guess I gotta get used to the fact you’re starting to go your own way now.”_  
“Dad...”   
_“What? Yes, so... go ahead. Sort out the paperwork. We can go through that together once you’re done.”_   
_“Really? Awesome!!”_

Russell kept wondering if his father’s hesitation should have given him a clue. But of course, he had only seen it as the reluctance of a father to let his son go that far away from home for half a year. And what else would that have been? He hadn’t had the slightest inkling of the madness that had been going on in his family. 

His dad had always wanted for him to be safe. But he had also never wanted to be in the way of his dreams. And Russell realised at that moment that having let him go to Norway to follow that dream must have been one of the hardest decisions he had ever made. 

And he had decided that Russell following his dreams was more important than his own worries caused by events that had taken place more than a decade ago. Caused by creatures that everyone believed to be gone for good. 

And now, his father would most likely blame himself for the rest of his life for this clusterfuck. But that wasn’t going to happen. Russell wouldn’t let that happen. This wasn’t his fault. None of this was his father’s fault. No matter what happened fifteen years ago.

He was dying to know what happened, he had so many questions right now, but he didn’t have the energy to ask them, or the strength to deal with the answers he might get.

* * *

They left the hut with the very first light the next day, huddled into a motor boat that roared across the water, the sounds of its engine echoing back from the steep walls encasing the lake. The clouds of their breaths fogged in the cold morning air. 

Once they had disembarked and the boat had left again and had vanished out of sight, the Johnsons and the elves began to sort the equipment, adjusting everything one more time. 

The Johnsons had no idea what exactly they were in for, but they were absolutely in do doubt that it would be the hardest, most unpleasant experience any of them would ever have to go through. Not only would they have to hike, and parts of the way even climb, up a mountain, they would have to do so without any training and in brand new gear and boots. They would reach the summit half dead and with bleeding feet. 

They had packed the guns together with their walking sticks, wrapped in layers of cloth to hide them, and now Bjarte slung the hunting rifle onto his back while holding out the shotgun with a questioning expression.

It was Johan who took it, and he gave it a critical look before he snapped it open to check the load. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he handled such a gun, so Bjarte nodded and handed him a pack of cartridges that Johan slipped into the pocket of his coat. 

They had one large backpack for their supplies and had agreed on taking turns with it. For now Axl took that, and with Bjarte’s help, made sure it was adjusted correctly to not chafe or sit too tight. Just as they were about to leave, Ratatosk slipped out of Axl’s pocket, climbed up his chest and slipped under his hood.

“Seriously?”  
“He’ll be crushed in your pocket,” Fenja said. “Can you bear him?”  
“I guess... If he stops squirming.”

Ratatosk rubbed his nose into the scruff on Axl’s cheek and curled around his neck. There hadn’t really been time to grow out facial hair to help protect their faces against the cold, but what little there was right now was definitely better than nothing. Axl pushed the bushy tail out of his face and sighed.

Russell was already fidgeting and looked anxiously up the narrow path that wound steeply up the mountainside. 

“Everyone ready?” Bjarte asked, and when everybody nodded, he adjusted his hood and nodded as well. “Then let’s go.”

The only mercy they could cling to now was that it was still autumn and not winter, so they would be able to make most of the way on snow-free ground.

* * *

Listening to the advice of the elves, they didn’t try to hurry but walked at a steady pace. And while Russell could understand that it made no sense to go as fast as they could only to be too exhausted to continue after a few hours, he was still almost crying in frustration when the way behind them became longer and the summit refused to come closer. But they simply had to take breaks, to rehydrate, to keep up their energy with slimy goo they sucked out of plastic bags and to rest their aching muscles. 

And while they all had been worried that Johan would slow them down even more, the old man moved with an agility and vigour that no one had expected. Whatever else he was, his life had hardened him, made him tough as leather and given him an iron will. 

It was during a break in the early afternoon when Russell looked at Johan, who had just climbed the rocky outcrop they were standing on. He approached his grandfather and Johan looked back with a wary expression.

“Why did you beat him?” Russell asked.  
Johan straightened up, took a few breaths to calm his breathing and met Russell’s eyes. “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” he replied.  
“Spoil him?” Russell scoffed. “Like, how?”  
“How?” Johan arched his back. “He was a soft little pansy. Was into girly books about horses and read poems and whatnot. Couldn’t run, couldn’t climb, couldn’t use a hammer, not even a screwdriver... two left thumbs and two left feet, I swear. I was trying to make a proper man out of him.”

Russell looked at him in silence.

“What do you want to hear?” Johan shrugged.  
“A pansy, huh? Because he liked poetry? Maybe that was the reason Bragi chose him?”  
“Sure turned him into an asshole.”  
“And maybe he had been an asshole already because his father fucked up in teaching him how to be a good man!”

The Johnsons around them exchanged a few incredulous looks and Johan crossed his arms. 

“And what would that be, a good man? A man who wastes his time writing poetry and songs?”  
Russell drew himself up and squared his shoulders, then stared at Johan with narrowed eyes. “So using the gifts of Bragi is a waste of time, huh? What if it was something he was really good at? Something that made him happy? Why didn’t you want him to be happy?”  
“No man can be happy if he’s being taunted for being a pansy!”  
“You know what?” Russell leaned forward. “I write poetry and songs, I play several instruments and I spent my time learning languages instead of playing football. I’ve never met someone who called me a pansy for that!”  
“Maybe times have changes, lad.”  
“Maybe you’re just too caught up in your own fucked-up head! You know what his main reason was for taking me with him to Auckland instead of giving me up for adoption? He wanted to give me something he never had! And only now I’m beginning to understand what he really meant with that!”

Johan looked at his grandson with his lips a thin line. Around them, the Johnsons and the elves stared at the two with anxious faces, ready to intervene should things get ugly. 

“So go on, call me a pansy!” Russell bared his teeth at Johan, his breath fogging in thick clouds. “Go on! Call me a wuss and a pussy for becoming what I wanted to be, because my father never tried to beat me into another version of himself! Call me a runt for loving to learn languages instead of football! Just remember that if this little runt didn’t speak Old Norse we still wouldn’t have a clue where we need to go!”

With that, Russell turned away, but then halted and turned to face Johan again. 

“Oh, and by the way, I’m a fag, too. I am so gay I should be wearing a rainbow coloured feather boa and a Freddie Mercury moustache... So go on, try to beat that out of me, why don’t you?”  
“Lad...” Johan shook his head.  
“Go on, you pathetic coward! Beat it out of me, come on! Or don’t you dare touch me because I’m not half your size like my father was?”

Johan was the first to look away. He let his eyes wander around, looking at his sons, but only saw closed-off faces. 

“Can we...” Bjarte stepped between the two. “Can we spend less energy on arguing and more on climbing? We have a good way to go yet.”

“He’s going to dance on my grave, isn’t he?” Johan asked Russell as he rolled his shoulders.  
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Russell replied with a little sneer. “He’s got two left feet, you know.” With that, he turned his back on Johan and followed Bjarte back onto the path. 

Johan shrugged and fell in line behind him.

* * *

They followed a winding path that was for most of the time hardly there, but for some reason, maybe because they were more experienced hikers or because they had better senses, Bjarte and Erle kept them on the narrow track snaking along the flank of the Tjønnholstind.

They all had to push themselves to their absoluter limits, and they reached the small shelter cabin just before it got too dark to safely continue. After stumbling in, everyone more or less collapsed and quickly divested themselves of jackets and boots. For quite some time, everyone was too beat to do anything else than stare at the floor. 

“We should make a competition,” Ty eventually said as he stared at his feet. “I think my blisters have blisters.”  
“Fuck...” Axl moaned almost obscenely as he stretched out his legs, holding his feet closer to the fire that Fenja had just started. “I have no idea how to get into those fucking boots again tomorrow morning.”  
Mike hissed through gritted teeth as he pulled off his socks. Some of his blisters had been rubbed so raw they were bleeding. “Fuck.”

Bjarte dug into the backpack and produced a tuber of salve. “Try that,” he said as he tossed that to Mike. “I’m afraid it will only take the edge off, though.”  
“Better than nothing,” Mike replied and began to gingerly apply the salve to his tortured feet.

Johan had retreated into a corner and didn’t complain even though his feet didn’t look better than anyone else’s, while Russell was pulling his socks off with an agonized expression. His feet were bleeding even more than Mike’s, and his ankles had been chafed on the inside. 

They melted snow for water and after feet were somewhat cleaned and drying, they had dinner consisting of dried muesli with powdered milk, mixed with water. The only whose spirits weren’t dampened was Ratatosk, who had made the ascent tucked away in the hood of Axl’s parka and was now busily nibbling on a piece of a muesli bar.

They sat in subdued silence around the fireplace after they had eaten. Russell was sitting cross-legged and stared into the flames, his face anxious and his cheekbones protruding, so hard was he gritting his teeth. 

“Hey Russ.” Mike leaned forward. “We’ll be up there tomorrow.”  
Russell shrugged. “And what if we’re too late?”  
Mike took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Then we didn’t give up without a fight, at least. I promised him. We can’t do more than give it all we have, Russell.”  
Shaking his head, Russell swallowed and closed his eyes. 

“Russell.” Erle smiled encouragingly. “You all did an amazing job today. I wouldn’t have expected, to be honest. We made it before dark, and we can rest, and get up before dawn to be out and about with the first light. And since we saw no tracks we can be sure they took the longer road from the east.”  
“So they won’t likely be there before tomorrow either,” Fenja continued. “We have a good chance at catching them.”

Russell didn’t open his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered. 

It was only visible to his uncles and Olaf, of course, how much he suddenly looked like the scared little boy that Anders had just brought with him from Auckland.   
He slung his arms around his torso and started rocking back and forth. His lips were soundlessly moving. 

“You say one word and I knock some of your teeth out,” Olaf muttered to Johan under his breath. 

And while everyone heard it and looked at the two, Russell remained completely oblivious, caught up in his own unpleasant imaginations and fears.

In the end, they all just tried to settle down as comfortably as they could to try and get some sleep, but the only one who actually slept was Ratatosk. The others remained more or less awake and occasionally dozing off, but Russell kept staring into the fire. 

Russell’s lips were moving soundlessly now; his eyes were fixed onto the flames as if he was seeing the answer to his questions there. 

He was praying, praying to gods he had believed were no more than myths and legends but had turned out to be very much real, and he prayed in both English and Old Norse, begging for mercy, for aid, for more time, and he prayed to all the gods he could name to let his father come home alive and if ever possible, without permanent damage.

If the gods listened to him, they gave no sign that they heard.


	23. Chapter 23

Mobiles were pretty useless up there but Erle had still taken hers along to use as an alarm clock. That now went off, at an ungodly hour and much to everyone’s chagrin, but they kept complaining at a minimum because they all knew what was at stake. They forced down another portion of dried muesli that tasted of slightly sweetened cardboard and then the agony started of getting aching feet back into unyielding boots and stretch sore and stiff muscles. 

Russell got up with his eyes closed and his teeth bared. 

“Russ?” Mike limped to his side. “Will you be able to...”  
“Yes.” Russell didn’t meet his uncle’s eyes. “I can put my feet up once we’re home.”

Mike exchanged a look with Ty and Axl, then with the elves. Everyone could only shrug. 

Russell had led a very sheltered, comfortable life, and just like his father, he hadn’t been one for athletics or physical exercise. But now, as they left the cabin for the last leg of their journey, he forced one foot in front of the other, very clearly exhausted and in pain, but very clearly determined to not let that stop him. 

It wasn’t far at all now, but it was the steepest part, crossing the final ridge to get to the glacier that sheltered the remains of the Yggdrasil. 

They all eyed the sky distrustfully; while it had been cloudy the day before, today the clouds were hanging lower and were dark grey instead of white. The last thing they needed now was getting slowed down by snow flurry.   
The clouds held their breath, though, at least for now.

And while they had done an outstanding job the day before with getting this far in a single day, today they had to pay the price for that. Blisters hadn’t healed overnight and muscles were still sore and aching, and there wasn’t one of the Johnsons who didn’t grit his teeth while walking now. 

As the morning wore on, they slowed more and more. And by now Russell, who had been in the lead the whole time yesterday, began to lag behind. His breath was coming in harsh gasps that now turned into sobs as the others waited for him to catch up.

Russell looked up at the others after he had reached them, tears on his face. “Shit...” He swallowed. “You gotta go on without me.”  
“Russ!” Axl shook his head and shoved Ratatosk back into his hood. “We can’t...”  
“I’ll catch up with you!” Russell’s voice was hoarse. “You gotta hurry the fuck up, and I’ll only slow you down! You gotta get to my dad! I...” He dropped his head. “He was right, after all. I’m just a runt and I... I’m completely useless here. I just hurt all over and I can’t... But please... just hurry up.”  
“Russell.” Mike cast a venomous glare at his father. “You’re not a runt...”  
“Yeah, I just hurt too much to move because I’m not a muscle guy.” Russell shook his head. “Go. Please, go. Don’t wait for me. My dad needs you.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence Olaf shrugged and said: “He’s right. Not the runt part obviously. ‘Cause he worked harder than any of us. But we need to hurry the fuck up.”  
“We stay behind with him,” Bjarte said. It sounded final.  
Now Johan joined the conversation, after a thoughtful look at his grandson. “Bjarte... since no one seems to be following us, can we have the rifle? I’d feel better if we have the long distance gun as well.”

Bjarte wordlessly slung the weapon off his shoulder and presented it to Johan, who handed the shotgun to Olaf before taking the rifle and a pack of ammunition.

“Remember how to use one of those?” He asked his son.   
“Been a while,” Olaf said thoughtfully. “But I guess it’s like riding a bike.”  
“Just don’t shoot yourself in the foot and we’re good.”

Olaf raised his eyebrows but said nothing. They set off again, and for the moment, Russell managed to keep up. He was about to fall behind again when they finally reached the mouth of the amphitheatre of black rock, the ground now a hard-baked surface of ice and snow. 

A large group of people were already heading for the back of the structure that looked as if someone had scooped a piece of the mountain out with a giant spoon. 

“Dad...” Russell whispered hoarsely. “Dad!”  
“Hurry!” Mike managed to climb a rock to get a better view. “They’re not that far ahead!”

Russell had suddenly forgotten about his sore muscles and almost broke into a run. They climbed the last rocks and stepped out into the almost blinding whiteness of the glacier tongue. Walking was easier now, and they almost ran to catch up to the other group. 

So far, none of the others had noticed the approaching Johnsons, everyone’s attention was fixed on three people at the front who now had reached the dead tree that looked less spectacular than anyone would have imagined. Just a dead ash tree. It wasn’t even that big. 

The three people turned out to be a woman and her daughters, and they positioned themselves directly before the tree. The next person was a tall woman dressed in white and a tall burly man dragging another figure with him that was just wrapped into a woollen blanket.

“Dad...” Russell almost suffocated on the word.

The giant, because that’s what the taller figure had to be, now pushed Anders onto his knees and lifted the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun, clearly intending to knock Anders out. 

Johan didn’t hesitate for a second; he swung the rifle from his shoulders, levelled the gun, looked down the sight and fired. 

The shotgun was knocked cleanly out of the giant’s hands, and his shout of surprise was audible at this distance. 

“Nice shot,” Mike said grimly. “Let’s go.”

Olaf clutched the shotgun and the Johnsons broke into a run, followed by the light elves.

“Dad!” Russell was suddenly in the lead again. “DAD!”

The giant behind Anders had quickly recovered his wits and retrieved his gun and now pointed it at the approaching Johnsons. 

“Not one step further!” A female voice now yelled, and Russell gasped.  
“It’s her! She was in the van!”

“STOP!” She yelled again. 

And behind her, one of the giants suddenly produced a gun that looked awfully like an AK 47. 

There was nothing for it, it was stop or get under fire from a machine gun. Only a few steps separated them from the giants and Anders, but it might as well have been a mile or two. 

“One step further and we open fire!”

“No! Dad!”

* * *

That morning they hadn’t even bothered giving Anders something for breakfast, and he hadn’t particularly cared. The thought of having one of those fucking bars again was revolting anyway. So he just wrapped himself into his blanket and lowered his head. It was only a few hours now. 

And if it hadn’t been for the memory of the promise he had made and never kept, he would have been relieved it was finally over. As it was, he kept thinking of the little boy in the hospital bed and hated himself for fucking it up. And it wasn’t that Russ would ever blame him for that because he would likely never know, but Anders knew, and it broke his heart. 

Rather think of this. Think of memories, even the unpleasant ones, rather than the terrifying thoughts the dark elf and the giants had put into his head just before they had left the cabin this morning. Anything, anything but that. Even the worst memories were better than this. But his mind refused to stay in the past. 

_...Anders, Anders, Anders..._

Anders looked up with widening eyes, but he could only see a tall figure vanish out of the edge of his vision. 

Fuck. He was hallucinating again. It was almost the same as back then, when he had suddenly seen Gaia at every corner, even in his fucking flat, in his fucking bathroom... only this time it was worse because it were people he cared about, and he could even hear their voices.

He focussed on his aching feet and the burning in his chest. It was easier than dealing with memories. That hurt more. 

_...Dad?..._

He didn’t see him this time, and he lowered his head again. 

_...We won’t give in without a fight..._

_But you can’t fight the fucking things, Mikkel. There was never any chance I’d get out of this alive._

One foot in front of the other. Gravel had given way to rock and it got steeper, more climbing than walking. His chest hurt more, and more than once one of the giants had to take his hand and pull him up, the step too steep and too high for him to manage on his own.

Rock gave way to snow as the ground levelled out again. At least the going was easier now. The ground was flat, wasn’t covered in too thick a layer of snow, so his feet didn’t sink in much. It was also significantly colder and Anders pulled the blanket tighter and stumbled on. Focussed on his feet. His steps. One foot in front of the other, the pain in his chest with every breath. Anything, anything but this. 

He heard the mutters and the awed whispers, and as he looked up, he could see it again: The dead ash tree that still looked exactly as it had fifteen years ago. 

The mother and her two daughters walked up to the tree, followed by the priestess. The giant behind him gave Anders a push and he staggered a few steps forward. Then the giants pushed him to his knees, and Anders lowered his head and closed his eyes.

The fear was suddenly back, and it was churning in his abdomen, making him feel sick. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to be with his son. Wanted to make him okay again, even if he would never again be able to after what they had done to him. 

He flinched as he heard the gunshot crack through the silence, and it echoed back from the face of the rock surrounding them. He lifted his head in confusion when the giant behind him staggered back with a shout. 

“Dad! DAD!”

If he could only stop his mind. He would have given anything to see his son again, to at least say goodbye. As it was, his brain kept taunting him with something that would remain forever out of reach. Even if forever wasn’t more than a few moments now.

“Not one step further!” The elf lady yelled. And then: “STOP!”

Anders lifted his head and looked at the tree, and at the three women staring past him. At the priestess, staring past him. 

“One step further and we open fire!”

He slowly turned his head and saw a group of people approach. 

“No! Dad!”

That wasn’t a hallucination. 

“God...” Anders felt like punched in the guts. His throat was suddenly too dry to swallow and his voice only a whisper. “God, Russ... what are you doing here?”

And he wasn’t alone, either. There was no way in hell anyone could mistake that group of men who came in two sizes as anyone else but the Johnson clan. Anders felt his stomach clench. Hope mingled with terror, because he knew that the giants had guns. He could see the shotgun in Olaf’s hand, and a rifle in... Johan’s? Had his father shot the gun out of the giant’s hands, with which he had been about to be knocked out?

But the giants had guns, and they were pointing them at the Johnsons and their companions... it had to be the light elves... and Russell was among them. There were guns pointing at his son. Suddenly, the sliver of hope vanished and turned into fury.

“Mikkel!”   
Mike flinched.  
“The fuck are you doing?” His voice almost didn’t carry, and it was hoarse with pain. “You promised me to keep him safe! What are you doing here?”  
“Anders!”  
“You’re all going to get killed!” It was almost a sob. “Why did you bring him here? Why didn’t you get the fuck away from here?”  
“Because I promised you...”

“Enough!” The dark elf woman yelled. “Not one more word!”

The two groups of people stared at each other, but even with the rifle and the shotgun, the Johnsons were pretty outgunned. 

“Lower those guns or we will open fire. We will not be stopped, not by you, or anyone else, not after we came this far!”

There wasn’t anything for it, really. Johan and Olaf dropped their guns with gritted teeth. 

Anders stared at them with tears burning in his eyes. Why couldn’t they have stayed away? He told them fighting would be pointless. Now they had all put their lives on the line for nothing and Russ...

_Why did you come here, God... Russell... why aren’t you safe..._

In the dead silence that followed, with the two groups staring at each other, no one but Axl noticed Ratatosk suddenly peek out of Axl’s hood with a high-pitched chirp. He quickly vanished again and Axl blinked angrily because the bushy tail had tickled his nose again. It was infuriating. “Fuck’s sake...” He muttered and rubbed a hand across his face.

“We will not be stopped,” the dark elf woman said again. 

The Johnsons could do no more than shuffle their feet and stare at the giants in helpless anger. 

Ty suddenly looked up, then around, and then took a small step back and was now standing almost directly behind Axl. He inched closer to Johan. 

At that moment Ratatosk slid out of Axl’s hood like a snake and jumped from his shoulder onto Ty’s. Ty kept staring straight ahead. His cheekbones protruded however, as if he was gritting his teeth.

Ratatosk chittered, a shrill sound of alarm, and finally, Johan cast a look at his son. 

His eyes widened. 

Ty’s hood was pushed back and he wasn’t wearing his gloves.


	24. Chapter 24

Johan took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes. And then he slowly stepped forward, lifting both hands in a placating gesture. 

“Now, now,” he said slowly, aware of his sons and his father staring at him with a mixture of terror and fury. Johan smiled, and kept his hands up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. None of us wants anyone get hurt, really, and I’m sure we can find a solution to this problem without anyone getting killed. We just gotta talk about this and keep our heads cool.”

All eyes were on Johan now, and after a moment’s hesitation, the giants lowered their weapons. 

Johan continued to smile; that infuriating smile his sons and everyone else who knew him hated. But all eyes were still on him, and the giants had lowered their guns. 

Johan addressed the giants and the dark elf woman. “I can understand. You want to go home. So do we, I can tell you. And I am sure we can find out how we all can get home without killing anyone.”  
“We will not be stopped,” the elf woman said.  
“Oh, and we’re not going to stop anyone going from anywhere!” Johan’s smile widened. “We just have to find another way for achieving what we have to, so we all can go where we want to!”

The elf woman crossed their arms. “You’re welcome to try,” she said. “If anyone knows more than we do it’s them, and they haven’t said anything since they have revealed Bragi’s role in all this.” With that, she pointed at the Yggdrasil, or rather, at the three women who stared straight ahead with unmoving faces. “We cast oracle after oracle, we read countless portents and omens until we finally found them.”  
“And who are these charming ladies?” Johan smiled at the three, but they looked utterly unimpressed.

A gust of wind tugged at the dead branches of the tree and played with the hair of the three women. 

“They are Urd, Verdani and Skuld,” the dark elf replied.  
“Well.” Johan smiled with a twitch of his head. “It’s an honour, it really is.” 

Then he turned towards the three women who had just been revealed to be the norns, the women who weave the fate of all beings. 

“My ladies.” He bowed deeply. “Is there no way to solve this, other than bloodshed? Is there really no other way?”

The three women didn’t reply and kept on staring straight ahead. 

“Please?” Johan bowed his head again. “Is the only way to do this to end the life of an innocent man?”  
“He is hardly innocent,” the elf woman spat. “It is because of him we stand here, in the first place.”  
Johan turned around again. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”

The elf woman crossed her arms with a sneer. “Oh believe me, it took us a while to figure this out, too. You see, the only answer we got out of them was that the wound had to be healed. We had no idea what they were talking about, so we sent someone here. And do you know what we found?”  
Johan shook his head with raised eyebrows.  
“The wound.” She looked at Anders. “The wound someone caused her fifteen years ago. When that someone...” She narrowed her eyes at Anders, “...cut off one of her branches.”

Anders swallowed, closed his eyes and dropped his head. 

The giantess stepped forward and beckoned them to follow. Up close, they all could see the wound this was all about, where a branch had been cut off. It didn’t look much and yet, it was the reason they were all here. 

“And believe me, it took us a while to find out what had happened,” the dark elf woman went on. “Until we finally found the one from our ranks who had disclosed to a god vessel where to find the Yggdrasil and even brought him here. Because no mortal can ever find and enter this place, so we knew it had to be someone like us. Or not, as it were.” She gritted her teeth for a moment. “So, we could puzzle together that a god vessel had come to Norway and managed to find someone willing to take him there. And eventually, we found out his name.” Then she looked at Russell. “It was our oracle who read about the arrival of a Blessed. Son of a god. And when we investigated, we found a bunch of light elves in Trondheim. Protecting him.” She scoffed. “The son of Bragi. What a stroke of luck we had. They drew us to him like a beacon.”

The light elves froze in shock. They looked at each other in dismay and more than a little fear.

“Bragi. He had the gall to not only command one of us to take him here, but he actually cut off a branch. The Yggdrasil! Holiest of all trees! We should take his life and that of his son as a payment!”

Anders stared at the tree and swallowed, shaking his head. The giants shuffled and grumbled. The Johnsons tensed.

“Now, I can see that was a wrong thing to do...” Johan stepped between the groups again. “But I’m sure for whatever reason he did it, this wasn’t his intention.”  
“I don’t care about his intention.” The elf woman looked down at Anders and back at Johan. “It was his hand that caused it. It is his blood that will heal her.”  
“All of it?” Johan asked.  
“You have no idea what a blood sacrifice entails, old man.”  
Johan rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No. No, I don’t. But we shouldn’t act on assumptions and do things we may regret later on.” He turned to look at the norns. “Please, is there no other way?”

Silence was the only answer he got.

“They will not speak to you,” the elf woman said.  
Johan looked at her. “They don’t speak English, I assume?”  
“They might. But they won’t answer you.”  
“And why is that, please?”  
She sneered.  
“Please?”  
A mirthless little huff, her eyes cruel, and the elf woman took a step back. “Try your luck, old man. We needed months to find that out.”  
“So why...”

“Johan.” Fenja’s voice was soft. “Dark elves are known for their cruelty. She will not reveal that secret to us, no matter what you say.”  
Johan looked at her with a deep frown.

The giantess, standing close to the tree with a large knife in her hand, looked from one face to the next, but her expression was wary, not hostile. 

The wind whistling over the rocks was the only sound. 

Until Russell suddenly took a step forward. He pushed his hood back and the wind tugged at a few of the longer strands of hair as he slowly walked towards the tree. 

“ _Vil I svare meg?_ ” He asked. “ _Forstår I meg?_ ”

The norns looked at him, but none of them spoke. 

“They seem to understand you, lad,” Johan muttered.  
“But they won’t answer me, either,” Russell gave back. Their animosity seemed momentarily forgotten.  
“Any other ideas?” Johan looked at Russell from the corner of his eye. “Did they really understand you? I mean... are they even Norwegian?”

Russell narrowed his eyes. His face absolutely motionless he squared his shoulders and stared at the three women. And after taking a deep breath he spoke Old Norse to them, repeating his questions if they were willing to answer him, if they understood him at all. 

This time, the eyes of the three norns actually came to rest on Russell. Yet they still didn’t answer him.

Russell ran both hands through his hair with a harsh, frustrated sigh. “What do I have to do? Talk like a fucking Skald right out of the Edda?”  
“Well, it can’t hurt to try,” Johan said thoughtfully.  
“But I don’t...” Russell ran his hands through his hair again and it stood seriously on edge now. “I never...”  
“Russell,” Olaf said gravely. “You’re the one blessed by Bragi. If you can’t do it, no one can.”  
“But we don’t even know if it will do anything!”  
“We can only try.”

A soft, derisive snort made him spin around. Russell looked at the dark elf woman who had her arms crossed, a victorious little smirk on her face. 

“Bitch,” he hissed under his breath.  
“Just as pathetic as your father,” she muttered back.

Russell stared at back the norns who still had their eyes on him. With a sigh, he turned around and looked at Johan, his uncles, and his father. Anders just stared at him, clutching the blanket with pale, bluish fingers. 

Their eyes met.

And then, Russell squared his shoulders and straightened up as he turned towards the tree, and while his arms hung at his sides, he turned his palms forward. He took a few deep breaths, his lips moving soundlessly. Then he closed his eyes, frowning in deep concentration with his breathing fast and his eyes pinched shut.

He hesitated for another moment, and then his beautiful voice, no longer soft and sweet like an angel’s but a full and clear tenor, rang out like a song held on one single note and echoed back from the black rocks surrounding them.

“[ _wisest of women, worldtree’s watchers, you who forge the fabric of fate, grant the gift of answers I ask so my father’s fate may not be forfeit_ ]”

His chant was followed by a stunned silence. Of course, the Johnsons hadn’t understood a word Russell had said, but the chant in itself had been rather unsettling. 

“He _is_ a Skald,” Bjarte whispered.  
“Is this what... is this what being blessed by Bragi means?” Ty whispered as well.  
“What else could it mean?” Fenja narrowed her eyes. “The Skalds have always been called the Sons of Bragi.”  
Axl, Mike and Ty exchanged a baffled and mildly embarrassed look.

The norns, however, inclined their heads and the oldest one now spoke.

“[ _Ask, Son of Bragi._ ]”  
Russell would have loved to know why the norns had been unable or unwilling to answer him before, but he fought that urge down. “[ _It is true that it was my father who wounded the world tree; it was his hand that cut off the branch. How can we heal her?_ ]”  
The older daughter spoke. “[ _What has been taken must be restored._ ]”  
“[ _Is there no other atonement than his life?_ ]”  
The younger daughter now inclined her head. “[ _What has been taken must be restored._ ]”  
Russell blinked. “[ _Restored. Restored, or returned?_ ]”  
“[ _The life force that has been seeping out of her can only be repaid by life force._ ]” This was the older daughter again, her voice as toneless as before. “[ _Yet the more is returned, the less will be needed._ ]”

“So there is...” Russell swallowed hard and a small incredulous smile spread on his face. It turned into a grin as he spun around. “There is another way!”  
The Johnsons exchanged wide-eyed looks.  
“What?” Mike took a step forward. “What must we do?”  
Russell was still grinning. “We just have to return the branch! If we return it, then the sacrifice doesn’t have to be final, which means they don’t need all of Dad’s blood, and we just.... we just...” He faltered upon seeing the other Johnsons’ expressions. “...get it back here from Auckland..?”

The silence was deafening. 

“Russ...” Mike’s voice was suddenly lifeless and hoarse. “I’m afraid the... the branch doesn’t exist anymore.”  
“What?” Russell’s eyes widened and he shook his head in fruitless denial. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean that...” Mike’s voice gave out and he shook his head while he licked his lips. “It means... it has been destroyed.”

“WHAT?” The dark elf woman spread her arms and dropped them again. “Destroyed? A branch of the Yggdrasil? How is that even possible?”

“Uncle Mike...” Russell’s voice was suddenly very small. “Please tell me it’s not true...”  
Mike shook his head again. “I’m... I’m sorry... Christ... I’m...”  
“But...” Russell bit his lips. “What... how could that happen?”

Mike looked at his hands for a moment, and when he looked at Russell again, he had tears in his eyes. 

“Russ... I’m so sorry... it was me.”  
“What?” It was hardly audible.  
“It was me,” Mike said again. “It was me! Michele could... the Yggdrasil gave a special power to the goddesses and not the gods, and Michele... she could heal people’s injuries and sickness... but she didn’t... she charged money for it! She decided who got to live and who was to die and...” Mike dragged both hands down his face. His cheeks were wet. “No one should wield that much power! No one should just decide about other people’s life like that!”  
Russell was too stunned to speak.  
“And I...” Mike went on, blinking his tears away. “I was angry... we got into a fight over it and I... I threw it into a shredder and... I was... I was jealous because of her power and...” He broke off with a helpless sob. “I’m sorry, Andy... I’m so sorry...”

“You destroyed a branch of the world tree like a piece of common shrubbery?” The elf lady almost screamed and exchanged a look with the giant priestess who looked outright shocked.

“It was me... it’s my fault...” Mike took a step forward, towards the priestess. “I’m his brother. I share as much blood with him as his son. Take mine instead.”  
“Mikkel...” Anders laboured to his feet. “Fuck... no! Don’t do that!”

Mike put his hands onto Anders’s shoulders. They stared at each other for a moment in mute despair. 

“I’m sorry... it’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, we could go get the branch and be here in less than a week and... I’m sorry.”  
“But Mikkel... we all... this was my... you can’t do that!”  
“I can,” Mike replied. “I don’t have a son to take care of.”

Then Mike turned to face the priestess again. “I offer you my blood.”  
She looked unhappily back and forth between Mike and Anders now.  
“Please let him go.”

“Oh, it’s not that easy,” the dark elf lady said with a cruel edge to her voice. “This is a sacred ritual. You can’t just waltz in and think you can change it.”  
“And what do you mean with that?” Mike asked, his voice trembling.  
“You offered your blood. Then that’s what we do. The more, the better.”  
“No!” Mike stared at her and shook his head. “You’re meant to let him go!”  
“As I said,” the elf lady replied. “You can’t just walk into an ancient ritual and think you can change the rules.”

“You’re not going to kill them both now, are you?” Olaf asked in an unsteady voice.  
“He give,” the priestess said with a heavy voice. “We take.”

“No!” Anders pushed Mike away from him. “That’s... that’s fucking insane! It’s me you want! You don’t want him!”  
“But he offered,” the elf woman said with a smile.  
“He offered so my father could be released!” Russell buried both hands in his hair.  
“And I said the ancient laws can’t just be changed to suit our every whim!”

“You can’t just kill him because...” Russell staggered forward and stared at the priestess. “ _Du kan ikke bare drepe ham fordi han sa noe galt!_ ” He yelled at the giantess in Norwegian.  
“ _Lovene kan ikke endres,_ ” she replied, her eyes full of sadness. It was clear that she wasn’t happy about what was going on.

“This is insane!” Russell suddenly screamed. “You are all insane!” He started to run towards the priestess.  
“AXL!” Anders yelled, eyes wide in naked panic. Behind him, he could hear a weapon being cocked.

Axl reacted faster than anyone could have imagined. He dashed forward and grabbed Russell’s shoulders to haul him back, then clamped both arms around his middle.

“NO!” Russell struggled with all his strength, but this time, Axl held him as if he weighed nothing. “Let me go! Dad! DAD!”

Two giants now stepped forward and flanked Mike and Anders, nudging them forward towards the tree.

“Mikkel...” Anders’s voice hardly carried. “What have you done...”  
“I’m sorry, Andy...” Mike shook his head and then draped an arm around Anders to support him. “I meant to...”  
“You shouldn’t be here...”  
“But I had to! I couldn’t just leave you like that...” Mike gave his younger brother a said smile.  
Anders shook his head. “This is... Mikkel... Not you too... Don’t do that...”  
“I’m afraid I already did,” Mike replied and pressed his lips together. “But I think... At least you won’t have to go alone.”  
“I wanted to go alone.”  
Mike shrugged.

Anders looked back at the tree and the priestess with a ritual blade in her hands.

“I’m fucking scared, Mikkel... I don’t wanna die...”  
“I know, Andy.” Mike pulled him closer. “I know.”

They clung to each other like scared children now, and the giantess slowly approached them.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some translations for Norwegian in a hover text.

The wind picked up now, but the serene silence was disturbed by Russell’s sobbing and his frantic, angry growls while he attempted to free himself out of Axl’s grip.

Axl had his eyes closed and there were tears in his eyes; he was aware that he was physically hurting his nephew with restraining him like that, but to let him go meant to let him run into his death.

“Stop!” He yelled in a last, desperate attempt to end this, but nothing happened. Ratatosk had hopped onto his shoulder again and now slipped back into his hood, silently and slowly and quite obviously scared.

“Whoever you think you are,” the dark elf woman sneered. “Your words have no power here.”

The priestess had almost reached Mike and Anders who were still holding on to each other and watched her with tight, fearful faces. 

“DAD!”  
Anders’s head spun around. “God, Russell...” He swallowed. “I knew from the moment they called me the first time that I wouldn’t get out of this alive... why did you have to come here?”  
“I don’t want you to die!” Russell screamed. “Let go of me!” He kicked Axl in the shin. “Let go!!”  
His eyes full of tears, Anders looked at his youngest brother. “Don’t let him watch,” he rasped. “Please don’t let him watch this.”

Axl shook his head and adjusted his grip around Russell’s midriff. 

The priestess had now reached Mike and Anders and hesitated for a moment. She seemed to beg their forgiveness with her eyes. 

“No! You can’t let that happen!” Russell stopped struggling and went limp, his sobs only coarse, heavy breaths. “Bragi! Lord Bragi! You can’t let that happen!”  
“Not even your Lord Bragi can help you now,” the dark elf said with a sneer. “The blood debt must be paid.”

Russell’s helpless sob was the most heartbreaking sound any of the Johnsons had ever heard. 

A cold gust of wind made everyone shudder. Ty was gritting his teeth and a small vortex of snowflakes swirled around him and the other Johnsons. 

“Anders...” Mike whispered, his eyes on the priestess. “Try Bragi...”  
Anders swallowed and his lips parted. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “You really don’t want to do this...”

But it was clear, from the first syllable, that his words had no effect whatsoever. Anders could even feel it, the words pouring off his tongue like silk, but the priestess narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head. Maybe she felt it too and it hadn’t worked. Maybe she hadn’t and just shook her head at the ridiculously futile attempt.  
But Anders knew that while the voice of Bragi had had many uses, it had never been able to force anyone to do anything against their will. Which was clearly the case here. It was all to no avail. 

The priestess looked at Mike and Anders now and it was clear that she didn’t like what she was about to do, what she had to do in order to free her people. 

“The blood debt must be paid,” the dark elf woman said, her voice cold, her eyes hard as glass. There was an evil twist of amusement playing around the corners of her mouth. 

Olaf stared at his two grandsons with a stony face and he was shaking his head in helpless, fruitless denial. Ty was standing in his small vortex of snowflakes, gritting his teeth so hard the sinews down his neck where visibly taut. Axl had his eye closed while he held on to Russell who was hanging in his arms as limp as a puppet whose strings had been mercilessly cut. And there was still the AK 47, so they couldn’t do anything that wouldn’t get all of them killed within a heartbeat.

Johan looked silently from one to the other, and at last, his eyes came to rest on his grandson. Russell was staring at his father, his face wet with tears that were now dripping down his chin. His desperate sobs were hardly audible anymore. 

The old man took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and stepped forward. 

“Johan!” Olaf hissed under his breath. “What the fucking fuck!”

Johan ignored him and headed for the priestess and his two oldest sons, holding his hands up. The priestess eyed him warily, but her face was set and it was obvious that pleading would only be a waste of breath. 

“You know,” Johan said almost conversationally. “I’ve been in this country before. I’ve worked, played cards and drank with your kind, got into fights... the usual drill. But I also learned a bit. Not so much the language, I’m afraid. Just bits and bobs, you know.”

Ty was shaking his head, his face a white mask of fury. Axl was baring his teeth at Johan and Olaf looked ready to strangle him. 

“But I learned one thing,” Johan went on. “Learned how important the old rules are. Don’t find that in many places anymore nowadays. But here, you are keeping these things alive. And that’s what I learned. Blood debt, aye?” He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “ _Blod gjeld._ ”

The priestess’s eyes widened in surprise. Johan ignored her for the moment and turned around to face his sons. 

“Anders,” he said in a low voice. “I know you hate me. At least that’s what we can be honest about, here, at the end of all things.”  
Anders gritted his teeth as he stared at his father.  
“Give me your hand, son. The left one.”  
Anders made no move. 

“Anders.” Johan held out his hand and dug the other into the pocket of his trousers. “I know. But I need you to trust me. This once, Anders.”  
Since his second son still made no move to comply, Johan shook his head and reached out again. “Anders...” He took a deep breath. “I’m not gonna bother you with useless apologies or any other crap. We both know it’s not worth it. But here, now, for the last time, and probably the first, you gotta trust me.”

Finally, Anders met his father’s eyes. And with a shudder, he slowly moved his left arm out from under the blanket and held out his hand. 

Johan took that hand and rested it, palm upward, in his own left hand. Then he dug into his pocket again and produced a switch blade. Before Anders could react, Johan had sliced into the pad of his thumb and because he had his fingers closed around Anders’s wrist in an iron grip that Anders had no means to escape with his stiff and cold limbs, Anders’s blood trickled into the palm of his father’s hand.

Johan let go of Anders’s hand again and held out his left hand to Mike. “Please trust me,” he said in a low voice. 

Mike looked at his younger brother, who was pressing his hand to his chest and was looking at his father with equal parts terror and murder in his eyes, and then at Johan. And then he, too, offered Johan his left hand. His father repeated the procedure and had now both his sons’ blood pooled in the palm of his left hand. 

Johan exhaled softly and turned around to face the priestess who was watching him with wide, yet solemn eyes. Then he rested the blade in his hand, closed his fingers around it and with a slow, decisive move, sliced the knife across his palm. He held up his fist and let the mingled blood drop into the snow, painting a patch of bright crimson onto the white ground between him and the priestess. 

“I pay my sons’ _blod gjeld_ ,” he said to the priestess. 

For a moment, the whole mountain seemed to hold its breath.

“ _Jeg hører dine ord_ ,” the priestess said slowly. “ _Og jeg erkjenner dem._ ”

Johan lowered first his head, then his fist.

Then the priestess slowly inclined her head towards Mike and Anders, then addressed the dark elf woman. “ _De står fritt til å gå._ ”  
The elf woman bared her teeth.  
“ _De står fritt til å gå_ ,” the priestess repeated, more firmly this time. 

“They are free to go,” the elf woman said, and she looked less than happy about it. Yet the priestess kept her eyes on her, and the elf shook her head and stepped back behind the lines of giants. And the giants who had been standing next to Anders and Mike now slowly stepped away as well, and back into the ranks of their own, without taking their eyes of the priestess.

Like everyone else, Anders and Mike stared at their father in petrified silence, and Johan looked back at them with an unmoving face. “Get outta here while they still let you,” he said. 

At that moment Russell tore himself out of Axl’s grip and staggered a few steps forward before he threw himself at his father. 

“Dad!” Russell clamped his arms around Anders’s shoulders, who looked too stunned to react. 

Then Anders looked at his son, and slowly, it began to dawn on him what had just happened. He swallowed and lifted his arms to close his hands around Russell’s. They stared at each other for a moment longer before they closed their arms around each other, their bodies closing as if they were trying to melt into each other. 

Russell burst into tears, and Anders buried his face in his son’s hair. He pulled him closer and rested one hand on the back of Russell’s head and Russell buried his face in Anders’s shoulder. They clung to each other as tightly as they could.

“Dad...” He whispered in a shaky voice thick with tears. “Dad...”  
“Russ...” Anders muttered into Russell’s hair. “Oh god... It’s going... it’s going to be okay...”

“Anders...”

Anders lifted his face out of Russell’s hair to look at his father. Johan looked back with his face a pale, calm mask.

“I don’t...” Anders swallowed hard, his hand still buried in Russell’s hair. “I still can’t bring myself to fall to my knees in gratitude, you know?”  
Johan shook his head. “That’s not what I want.”  
“Then what do you want?”

Johan sighed, his shoulders rising and falling. “Nothing,” he said and turned around. But then he stopped and looked over his shoulder again at his son, and his grandson who was still clinging to his father with all his strength. “I just...” he lowered his eyes for a moment, then looked up again. “I would... I would have liked the lad to call me grandpa. Just... just once. But... yeah. I know.” Then he shrugged a turned around. “Good bye.”

At that moment, Russell slowly peeled his face out of Anders’s shoulder. He stared at his grandfather’s back for a long moment, his facial expression impossible to read. Then he took a deep breath with a slight shake of his head. 

“Bye,” he said in a slightly husky voice, and Johan’s shoulders hunched ever so slightly. “Bye, grandpa.”

Johan looked over his shoulder again, and the soft, sad and wistful smile stood in utter contrast with his weathered, furrowed face, and with all the memories his sons had of him. Then he turned away again and followed the priestess without another word. 

Johan knelt down at the foot of the tree without having been told to while priestess stepped behind him and rested her left hand under his chin, lifting his head. Then she lifted the ritual dagger she still held in her right. 

Anders dug his hand into Russell’s hair to press his son’s face into his shoulder and held on as tightly as he could. Everyone else had their eyes closed and their faces averted, as well. 

It made hardly a sound, inaudible over the priestess’s eerie chant, apart from the sound of a body slumping to the ground. 

Seconds later, the earth below them began to tremble. 

The Yggdrasil slowly fell apart. Dry, dead branches shook and trembled, and one by one, they broke off, fell and crumbled to dust, until there was nothing left but a dry, dead stump. And as everyone stared at that in desperation, the first small, green shoot suddenly appeared in the brittle remains of crumbling wood. 

It grew within moments. It stretched, grew, thickened and finally sprouted twigs that turned into branches. The ground still trembled, and as the tree grew, the ground rose, the snow vanishing as if it was just sliding off the surface of a roof. The wood groaning and whining the tree still grew, branches thickened and reached for the sky, the trunk growing in girth as the ground rose more and more. The first leaves began to appear and the crown of the tree began to stretch and fill.

And when the ground stopped trembling, they found themselves on a low, round hill, the ground covered in low grass, and on the top stood an ash tree whose canopy filled half of the sky.

“Yggdrasil,” the priestess said, her voice trembling with awe and brimming with emotion. “Yggdrasil...”

There were three huge, gnarled roots growing out of the tree aboveground, massive like tree trunks themselves, digging into the ground like giant claws; they vanished out of sight down the hill without getting significantly smaller. And the priestess now slowly stepped towards one of those roots, tears spilling from her eyes. 

The first of the giants now took a few hesitant steps. Some of them began to sob like children, some cried their tears in silence. Clearly overwhelmed by emotion they headed for the root and one by one, they stepped over it, still crying, smiling in disbelief while wiping red, wet eyes. One of them knelt down and kissed the bark of the root before climbing over it. 

As soon as their feet touched the ground on the other side, they vanished. The priestess watched them go with tears streaming down her face. 

A hiss made them all look at another root, and the dark elf woman gave them a look of pure, unadulterated hatred before she ran towards it. Both Mike and Axl simultaneously started towards her but she was faster; before they could get anywhere near her she jumped over the root and vanished, too. Axl growled in angry frustration, but she was gone for good.

Anders and Russell were still clinging to each other and stared as wide-eyed as everyone else at the world tree and at the priestess, and then at the three women who slowly stepped around the trunk. They wore girded, ankle-length, grey robes. 

“Leave this place, mortals,” one of them said.  
“Do not look back,” the second one added.  
“Go home,” the third one said and all three of them turned away and vanished behind the tree again.

The Johnsons and their companions didn’t need another invitation for that. 

Before he turned away, Axl went down into a crouch and reached into his hood. With a chirp, Ratatosk flit down his arm, ran in big leaps towards the tree and skittered up the rough bark faster than anyone could look. 

“Bye, little fella.” Axl got up with a smile. 

He was just about to turn around when something dropped down onto his shoulder. Ratatosk sat up on his hind legs, rested his tiny paws on Axl’s cheeks and nuzzled his ear. Axl reached out with a smile and the squirrel hopped into his hand. 

“Welcome home,” he said. Then he lifted his arm and using his hand as a spring board, Ratatosk hopped up into the branches again and vanished. 

Mike looked at the tree with his mouth a thin line. “I wish I could have given that bitch a piece of my mind.”  
“I would have held her down for you,” Axl replied darkly. “She can go fuck herself.”

After a moment, they both shrugged, and the Johnsons and the light elves then turned away and left the world tree behind. 

They hadn’t walked more than a few paces when the snow began to return; patches at first, but quickly covering the ground. A cold wind suddenly blew into their faces and they found themselves back on the glacier tongue on the Tjønnholdstind.  
And when they looked back, there was nothing but the bare, black rock covered in ice and snow. Not the slightest remnant of a tree was visible anymore. 

But only after a few steps more, Anders legs gave out under him. Mike was luckily close enough to help Russell catch him. 

“We gotta hurry up,” Mike said as he slipped an arm under Anders’s shoulders. “We gotta get him out of this fucking cold.”

Ty hurried to his side and was already taking off his parka. Quite obviously, the cold still didn’t bother him at all. “Here,” he said. “I don’t need it right now.”  
“And what if you do?”  
“Then he’s still closer to die of hypothermia than I am,” Ty gave back.

Anders managed to put the thick parka on but of course, that did little to help for now. Axl then shrugged, wrapped him into the blanket and gathered him up into his arms, carrying him bridal style with no effort whatsoever.

“We need to take the longer road down,” Bjarte said. “There are several shelter cabins on this side of the mountain, but I don’t have a map.”  
Mike closed his eyes and after a moment, he grinned. “Don’t need a map,” he said smugly. “Let’s go.”

Olaf hesitated for another moment while looking back at the face of the cliff behind him. He was holding the switch blade in his hand that he had picked up without anyone noticing.

“Olaf?” Ty asked cautiously.  
Olaf turned around. His facial expression was hard to read. “Whatever else he was...” he said. “He was still my son.”

For a moment, they all fell silent, as if it was only now becoming clear to them that it had been Johan’s sacrifice that was the reason for them being here, being able to leave that mountain. It had all happened too fast, it hadn’t really had a chance to sink in.

“Let’s go,” Olaf said after he slipped the knife into a pocket. “Really wish I could help you, too, but all I can do right now is not get older.”

With Mike in the lead the Johnsons began to make their way down the flanks of the Tjønnholdstind.


	26. Chapter 26

It certainly wasn’t easy, hurrying down the flank of a mountain, and it was outright dangerous to go too fast in the dwindling light, so the Johnsons weren’t nearly as fast on their way as they would have liked.  
But despite that, they were still faster than Anders and the giants had been on their way up, so they managed to at least see the cabin from afar before nightfall. 

By that time, however, Ty had begun to freeze, visibly so, and Axl’s breath had begun to speed up and come in harsh and heavy huffs. He still tried his best not to jostle the half-conscious Anders in his arms, but as they got closer to the cabin he began to stumble, making Anders groan in pain every time. 

It was dark by now, and the torch Bjarte had brought helped little, illuminating only a patch of ground, and Bjarte pointed it so that at least Axl could more or less see where he was going. They had almost reached the hut when Fenja suddenly cried out and lost her balance. She had stepped on a lose rock and as she sat up again, she grimaced in pain. 

Ty was at her side in an instant. “Are you okay?”  
“I don’t... god damnit. I think I sprained my ankle...” She took Ty’s offered hand to get up again, but she hissed in pain. “Fuck!”  
Ty slipped an arm under her shoulder to support her.  
“Don’t wait for us,” Fenja said to the others. “Get Anders into the cabin!”

After a nod, Mike turned around again and Bjarte took the lead with the torch pointed at the ground. 

Having finally reached the cabin Axl groaned in relief and slowly sank to his knees. Ty and Fenja reached the door not so long after the others and Fenja limped towards a bench and gritted her teeth while silently cursing under her breath.

“Can’t lie down,” Anders said, his voice rough. “Gotta sit up against a wall.”  
“Why is that?” Mike lowered himself down next to Anders and helped him shuffle back against the wall.  
Anders closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath back. “Bastards socked me in the guts because I walked too far away to have a piss.” He swallowed. “Landed too hard, broke a rib. Or two.”  
“Shit.” Mike took his brother’s hands. “You gonna be all right?”  
Opening his eyes again, Anders gave him a weak grin. “Eventually. I’m sure as fuck glad I didn’t land on a rock and break my spine.”  
Mike closed a hand around Anders’s shoulders with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “You’ll be fine, Andy. Just get to get you off this fucking mountain.”

Anders closed his eyes again. “Didn’t think I’d ever make it,” he said softly.  
“Hey.” Mike increased the pressure of his fingers. “I told you we wouldn’t give up on you.”  
After opening his eyes again, Anders looked at his brother tiredly. “Don’t think I’m not grateful for it, but why the fuck did you have to bring Russell along?”  
“Because we would have had to handcuff him to a radiator to make him stay behind,” Mike replied and looked up at Russell who had just gotten rid of all his gear. 

Now Russell walked towards his father’s side and lowered himself down beside him, his back against the wall as well. 

Anders looked at him, and swallowed hard. He reached up to run his fingers through Russell’s cropped hair. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “God, Russ... I’m so sorry...”  
“Dad, it’s okay, really. It’s just hair.”  
“I’m not talking about the hair,” Anders rasped, tears in his eyes.  
But Russell looked only puzzled. “Then what are you talking about?”

Anders swallowed so hard it was audible and stared at his son out of widening eyes. 

_In the knowledge that his last day had finally arrived, Anders stared into the fire, trying to hang on to more happy memories. Russell’s first smile, that incredible, dimpled smile, back then, on his sixth birthday. It still made Anders’s lips twitch. It seemed a lifetime ago but it was as clearly in his mind as if he was looking at a photograph._

_“Thinking about your son?” The dark elf woman asked, that unpleasant smile on her face as cruel as ever._  
_Anders closed his eyes with a sigh and then cast a look at her from the corners of his eyes._  
_“You know, I think about him, too. A lot.”_  
_His hands starting to tremble, Anders gritted his teeth and kept on staring into the flames._  
_“Those beautiful blue eyes, that soft, silky hair... oh... never mind me.”_

_A few of the giants snickered._

_“But just like you,” the elf woman continued. “Not enough flesh on his bones to get a good grip.”_

_Anders’s stomach turned and his heart began to race._

_“Nice ass, though,” she went on, utterly calm and clearly enjoying herself. “Would have loved to keep him, but the priestess insisted we keep our end of the bargain.”_

_He was beginning to feel sick. Refused to believe what his mind was beginning to make of her words._

_“What?” She laughed softly as she looked at his facial expression. “You didn’t think he will stay a virgin forever, did you?”_

_The sick feeling in Anders’s stomach turned into burning hate and rage. He was unable to conceal it._

_“Thomas?” She asked sweetly without taking her eyes off Anders’s._  
_“Huh?”_  
_“How long until you can be in Trondheim?”_  
_“Day and a half.”_  
_“There.” She smiled at Anders. “Better keep yourself in check. But anger is a very effective means at keeping oneself going. And I suggest you do just that.” Her face hardened again. “Get up. And get going.”_

Now Russell’s eyes widened as well and his voice was a husky whisper. “They made you believe they raped me?”  
Anders could only nod.  
“Bastards...” Russell could hardly suppress a sob, an incredulous, painful smile on his face. “Dad... No. No, they didn’t.”  
“You don’t have to lie for my sake,” Anders replied, his voice brittle and shaking.  
“I’m not lying, Dad.” Russell swallowed. “I’m not.”

It took Anders a second to process those words, then his head fell back against the wall with a hoarse sob. He blinked once, and with that, tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

“Dad.... no...” Russell sat up on his knees and pressed his forehead against his father’s temple. “No. Dad, I’m okay. I really am. They didn’t touch me. It’s okay... really. I’m okay.”

It took Anders a while to calm down again, and in the heavy silence, the others hardly dared to breathe. But the anger and frustration about what Anders had been put through was palpable.

“How dare they...” Axl muttered, unable to keep the frustration and anger out of his voice. “And why?”  
“Dark elves are the ones to find everyone’s deepest fears and turn them into nightmares,” Bjarte replied, his eyes to the ground. “If the person is asleep or awake doesn’t make a difference.”

Finally, Anders was able to open his eyes again to look at his son. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “So sorry I let you run into an open knife like that.”  
Russell shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”  
“Like fuck it isn’t.” Anders moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue and shook his head. “I should never...”  
“Never what?” Russell leaned closer. “Never let me go? Dad, I would have hated you for that. You knew how much this meant to me.”  
“I knew.” Anders swallowed. “And I was afraid that something like this would happen. I...”

“Dad.” Russell shook his head. “How were you supposed to know the giants hadn’t gone home just like the gods? How were you supposed to know?”  
“But I...”  
“No, Dad. No but. You had no idea, you had no way of knowing this. And they didn’t even really harm me. They didn’t want me, they wanted you. And you didn’t hesitate a second to give them what they wanted.”  
“I had to,” Anders replied in a slightly husky voice.  
“I know.” Russell shook his head. “Nothing really happened to me. And we fixed it in the end. We sorted this shit and we’ll all be all right. And really... this isn’t your fault. You know what would have been your fault? If you’d known back then what a can of worms this would open. But you didn’t. So this isn’t your fault. That it happened was shit. But it wasn’t your fault.”

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment, a silence that no one else dared to disturb. 

Finally, Anders managed a tiny smile. “You really want me to believe that, don’t you?”  
“I need you to believe that. I can’t have you blame yourself to death for something that wasn’t your fault.”  
“Russ,” Anders replied with a sigh. “I’m still...” He broke off and fell silent.

After a moment, he reached out and ran his fingers through Russell’s hair again. “Your beautiful hair...”  
“Dad, I don’t give a shit about the fucking hair. It’ll grow back. Besides, I had a ponytail since I was seven. Maybe it’s time to try out a new look.” He shrugged  
Anders’s smile softened.  
“And really...” Russell smiled back. “I’d have gone as bald as an egg if that would’ve gotten you back in one piece. As it is, I’m just happy you’re gonna be all right again. I don’t care about anything else.”

“Returning the favour, hm?” Anders ran his fingers through Russell’s hair again with a wistful smile.  
“Yeah.” Russell shrugged with a smile of his own. “Don’t think I’d ever forget that.”  
“Didn’t think you would.”

They both chucked softly, then Russell sat down again, moved closer and rested his head against Anders’s shoulder before snuggling up to him. 

“Still not too old for that?” Anders asked softly.

“Anders,” Fenja said in a gentle voice and smiled when Anders looked up at her. “I don’t think anyone is ever too old to draw comfort from the embrace of the people who know them best and love them the most.”

Anders blinked a few times, and then he draped an arm around Russell’s shoulders and pulled him close. 

“Why did you have to come here, though. I thought I’d have a heart attack when I saw those guns pointing at you.”  
“Yeah, I know. But they didn’t shoot, now, did they?”  
“You still shouldn’t have come here if you ask me.”  
“But no one asked you,” Russell gave back firmly.  
Anders had to chuckle.

After a moment, Russell took a deep breath. “Dad. You really think I’d leave you hanging?”  
Anders looked at his son, eyes soft. “You know... I know you can be as stubborn as a fucking rock. I just had hopes you wouldn’t end up in danger again. These people are fucking dangerous.”  
“I know.” Russell sighed and took one of Anders’s hands. “But Dad... really. I had to. I couldn’t sit back and wait for other people to rescue you. Apart from that, if I had, no one would’ve been able to talk to the norns...” Then his face darkened. “Not that it did any good, come to think of it. The only thing that achieved is that Mike almost died too.”

After a moment, Anders shrugged. “And maybe Johan wouldn’t have done what he did if that hadn’t been the case.”  
Russell frowned. “Probably not.”

Fenja leaned forward. “Anders... do you really think your father would have stood idly by and watch his son getting killed?”  
Anders met her eyes. “Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past him. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t sure he hated and resented me, and I can’t remember he ever said a single kind word to me.”  
“That is cruel,” Fenja whispered. “Who would do such a thing to his child, and why?”  
“Fuck if I know,” Anders replied and tried to suppress a cough. “Fuck if I know why he did what he did up there, either.”  
“Maybe because he realised that after all, you’re his son?”  
Anders shrugged. “Fuck if I know,” he said again. “Fuck if I care. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been about to check out anyway.”  
“Are you so sure of that?”

Lifting his eyebrows, Anders looked at her for a moment. “I just told you he hated me, right? He did it because Mike was suddenly in this as well, and because it saved him from slowly croaking it. End it on his own terms without having to eat a gun.”  
“Does his sacrifice mean nothing to you?” Fenja asked with a helpless shrug.  
“I’m glad he did it, don’t get me wrong, because I’m still alive and I quite like that condition, thank you very much. Other than that, I’m just glad he’s finally out of my life for good.”  
“That is so bitter.”  
“You know what, he could have remembered I’m his son thirty years ago and treat me like that instead of beating seven kinds of crap out of me every time I said something he didn’t like. And he never liked anything I said.”  
Fenja lowered her eyes with a sigh and a shake of her head. “Who would do that to their own child,” she muttered again.  
“A heartless asshole,” Anders gave back. “And I won’t for the life of me understand why he suddenly thought of being anything else but a heartless bastard towards me.”

“Well.” Axl stretched out his legs to bring his feet closer to the fire. “It maybe has to do with Russell having given Johan first a punch to the chin and then several choice pieces of his mind.”

Very slowly, Anders turned his head to look at his son. “You did what?”  
Russell pressed his lips together. “I think I saw red for a moment when I realised who he was. And yes, I told him what I think of his educational methods.”  
Mike looked at Russell with a crooked smile. “I think what did it was that you compared his way of treating Anders to the way Anders treated you,” he said. “To see that despite everything your father did, nor not did, as it were, you are someone with guts and self-esteem and valuable skills.”  
Russell shrugged and looked at his hands. “Bit late for him to come to his senses but... yeah. Maybe that was it.”

There was a moment of silence before Anders took a deep breath. “Hey.”  
Russell looked up, and Anders took one of his hands.  
“You managed something I never dared, not even as a grown man. I know I slapped him once, but that was only a bitch slap, and I never managed to tell him just what I think of him and the things he did.”  
“Someone had to.” Russell shrugged, and then smiled somewhat hesitantly. 

“You should’ve heard him,” Axl now said with a grin. “Went at him like an angry Rottweiler.”  
“That’s putting it a bit strong, Uncle Axl!”  
“Yelling at him to beat it out of him like he did with his father.”  
Anders snorted softly.  
“Didn’t even stop there!” Axl shook his head with his grin widening. “Even yelled at him he was gay. That took some guts, to throw that at him and tell him to beat that out of him.”

Anders and Russell exchanged a look. 

Russell shrugged. “I know. It wasn’t really how I planned to come out to my family.”  
“Hang on...” Axl chuckled. “You are really gay?”  
“Well what did you think? That I made that up to provoke him?”  
“Actually...” Axl rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Yes.”  
“So,” Russell said darkly. “Is that a problem?”  
“What? Fuck no!” Shaking his head, Axl smiled at his nephew. “You’re fine just the way you are!”  
Russell relaxed again and shook his head with a chuckle.

* * *

Dinner was a rather meagre affair, but they had a couple of muesli bars left that Anders gladly took.

“Can’t stand the sight of the fucking things anymore,” he said as he watched Mike bite into one of the energy bars.  
Mike looked at the bar and shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”  
“I’ve had nothing else for the last couple of days. Some fucking sorry last meal, if you ask me.”  
“Dad...” Russell stared at the bar in his hand.  
“Sorry.” Anders closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall again. He tried to suppress a cough, not quite succeeding, and he winced. “But honestly? I’d kill someone for a stale, old and rancid ANZAC biscuit right now.”

“We’ll make you some when we’re home again,” Ty said firmly.  
Anders had a faint smile on his lips. “Home...” he whispered.  
“Yes... home.” Russell tried to get more comfortable next to his father. “Then we can throw you a barbie.”  
“Stop talking about food,” Anders replied, but with that faint, tired smile still in place.  
“So...” Mike joined the conversation. “What’ll it be? Lamb roast, whitebait fritters, nelson scallops, bluff oysters, a pavlova, or maybe some hokey pokey icecream?”  
“Sounds good.” Anders opened his eyes again. “Do I have to take them in that order?”

Everyone chuckled at that, even Anders.

The atmosphere lightened considerably after that, and they all tried to settle down to rest.


	27. Chapter 27

After a brief night that hadn’t been that restful, the Johnsons and the elves got ready to leave the cabin again with the first grey light of dawn. 

It was clear from the moment she tried to stand up, however, that Fenja would be going nowhere that day. Her ankle was swollen and stiff, and there was hardly a chance she would be able to get into her boots, lest even walk. 

“I’ll stay here with him,” she said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll slow you down too much.”  
Russell’s head spun around. “What do you mean, stay here with him?”  
Fenja shook her head with a mildly confused frown. “You have to go and get help. Anders is in no shape to hike down a mountain.”

One look at Anders, who was sitting against the wall, still wrapped in the blanket, his face pale and eyes closed, left no doubt about it. Fenja was right, Anders wouldn’t be going anywhere either. 

“But we can’t just leave you here!” Russell ran both hands through his hair.  
“You will have to.” Fenja limped towards the bench again and sat down. “You go and get help. You can be in Gjendesheim by tonight, and can send up the mountain rescue up as soon as you get there. I can’t walk that far, and you can’t carry Anders down there.”  
“She’s right,” Mike said as he stepped beside Russell. “We can’t. But the faster we are, the sooner they can get out of here. So it’s up to us to hurry the fuck up.”  
“But...” Russell took a deep breath. “I won’t leave him. I’m staying too.”

Anders opened his eyes. “Russ.” He adjusted his position with a soft groan and coughed with a grimace of discomfort. “Get the fuck down there and help the others get help. You’re fluent in Norw...”  
“So are the elves!” Russell curled his hands into fists. “I’m not leaving you!”

The others, who were putting on or lacing boots, zipping up jackets and adjusting gloves, paused what they were doing to look at him. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Russell said again, his face set. “Forget it.”  
“Russell...” Anders shook his head. “Please do me the favour and go help the others get help.”  
“Like fuck I will! I won’t leave you alone!”  
Anders cast a helpless look at his older brother.

“Russ,” Mike said after a moment. “A word?”  
Russell glared at him, but after gritting his teeth for a moment, he followed his uncle outside, out of earshot. 

“Russell,” Mike said calmly, placing a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to leave him here. I can understand that you want to stay here with him. But please, for his sake, come with us.”  
“I don’t see why...”  
“Russell.” Mike shook his head, meeting Russell’s eyes. “I know that...” He sighed. “I know that you’re not a child anymore that needs protecting. But he’s your father, and he won’t ever stop to feel the need to do so.”  
“I don’t need...”  
“Exactly. You don’t need it. But... he’s your father. He will always want you to be able to rely on him and stay strong for you. And this...” Mike sighed again. “He’s in a lot of pain, Russ”  
“I know!”  
“He feels like shit,” Mike went on as if Russell hadn’t interrupted him. “And even if you don’t need to be coddled, he just doesn’t want you to see him like that.”

Mike let that sink in, and after a moment, Russell closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head while swallowing hard. 

“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay... I see. Right then... okay.” He looked at Mike again. “I’ll come with you.”  
Mike smiled and patted his shoulder, and both went back inside. 

Russell slowly walked up to his father and knelt down beside him. Anders looked up into his face, a tired smile on his lips.

“It’s okay, Dad.” Russell tried to smile as well. “I’ll go and get help. But you gotta promise me something.”  
“Anything,” Anders replied hoarsely.  
“You gotta promise me to hang on.”  
“I wasn’t going to check out now,” Anders replied with a frown.  
“I know.” Russell smiled softly and took one of Anders’s hands. “I know you gave your blood to save me, and I know you’d have given it to the last drop. And that you’d have died for me up there. I know, okay? I know you would die for me... and that’s fucking scary, but...” He swallowed. “But now I need you to live, okay? Don’t think just because I’m grown now means I don’t need you anymore. You’re my dad, and I’ll always need you. So please, I know you were ready to die for me, but now I need you to live for me.”  
Anders stared silently at his son for a moment, and tried to blink back his tears. “It’s okay, Russ,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Russell touched his father’s forehead with his own and they both had their eyes closed while the touch lasted. Then Russell straightened up again and they exchanged a smile that was meant to be encouraging on both sides. 

“Take the food with you,” Fenja said to Ty as he was about to unpack it from the backpack. “What's left of it. You need it more than we do. We just sit tight here, and tomorrow morning will see the end of this, right?”  
“Right.” Mike adjusted his gloves again. “Everyone ready?”

Russell exchanged one last hug with his father before he got up, and before he closed the door behind him, Mike looked at his brother again with a nod. “Be seeing you tomorrow.”  
Anders nodded. “Get out of here already.”

The door closed, and Anders closed his eyes. He had survived, against all expectations. Now all that remained was to wait for rescue. And keep on breathing. His chest hurt... and the goddamn coughing was beginning to get out of control. 

“Anders.” Fenja sat down next to him after putting another log into the fire. “Is there anything I can do?”  
Anders shook his head. “Thank you, but... no.”  
Fenja sighed and crossed her arms as she stared into the fire.  
“It’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?”  
She smiled softly. “I guess so. We don’t have much wood left, either, so we have to use it sparsely.”  
“So, still no warm feet.”  
“I’m afraid not.”

After a moment, in which they both just listened to the soft crackling of the fire, Fenja adjusted her position again. “You two are very close, aren’t you?”  
“Yes.” Anders closed his eyes and smiled. “Took us a while, but... we got there.”  
“Took you a while?”  
Anders opened his eyes again and looked at her. “Right, you wouldn’t know.”  
Fenja smiled and expectantly tilted her head. “If you don’t mind, I’m curious. And we do have an awful lot of time to pass.”  
“Fucking true,” Anders said with a chuckle.

* * *

Fenja had gotten up twice to put another log into the fire and now she looked at Anders with a soft smile after he had reached the end of his tale with Russell having left for Norway. 

“You really love him, don’t you?” She asked softly.  
“I learned to make pancakes. And I fucking hate pancakes.” Anders smiled and exhaled a soft huff of breath that turned into a cough. He hissed and gritted his teeth for a moment before he calmed his breathing again. 

“So, what's your story?” Anders asked after catching back his breath. “If you don't mind me asking.”

Fenja stared into the flames. Her face was suddenly tight and pale. She took a deep breath and slung her arms around her before closing her eyes. 

“I told you that Lord Freyr took us with him, back to the realms of Asgard, to Alfheim. Home.”  
“You did,” Anders said with a worried frown.  
“So... it all seemed fine for us. It was. Until Lord Bragi approached Lord Freyr and told him about the giants and dark elves, confirming the worries of our Lady Gerd.”  
“Do you know why Bragi didn't go himself? I'm sure a god would've been better at.... you know. The whole protecting business. I guess.”  
“He might have been. No, he certainly would have. But as far as we understood, Lord Odin had explicitly forbidden that the gods meddle in mortal affairs, ever again. And this... apparently he regarded this as a simple affair of mortals.”  
“Even though creatures from other realms were involved?” Anders emitted an angry snort that turned into another cough. 

“So it would seem.” Fenja swallowed. “So Lord Bragi and Lord Freyr would have acted against Lord Odin's direct orders.”  
“And what about you? Sending you didn't count?”  
Fenja shook her head. “We have always travelled into the realm of mortal man. Often, we carry Bragi's blessing, his inspiration for music and poetry. That's why Bragi came to us and our Lord.”  
Anders cleared his throat. “No offence, but...”  
“It helped little, I know.” Fenja's voice was bitter. “And all because of... because of the Yggdrasil. Of which we had no inkling.”  
“So... what happened?”

Fenja swallowed and hugged herself tighter. “We ended up in mortal bodies that were even more powerless than we could have imagined.”  
“Ended up in mortal bodies?” Anders stared at her. “Like what? A possession?”  
“No.” She shook her head. “It... we do own these bodies, and we have not displaced the souls that they bore.” Then she sighed. “I have to...”

She hesitated for a moment. “It doesn't really matter now,” she finally said. “Not anymore.”  
“What does?” Anders was still more confused than anything else.  
“The story of how we got here.” She cleared her throat. “Why Lord Freyr had to ask for volunteers. Because of the borders being closed, we could not come here as we used to do.” She paused. “Without the Yggdrasil connecting the realms, there was only one way left to us. There is only one connection between two realms that is not part of the Yggdrasil, and that is the Bifrost that spans between Asgard and Midgard.”  
“The rainbow bridge.” Anders licked his lips. “Right?”  
“Right.”

Fenja took a shaky breath. “But the Bifrost is not just a bridge. There are only two ways you can cross that bridge. You have to be a god.” She swallowed. “Or dead.”  
It took Anders a moment to realise what she was implying. “What...”  
“It was... that's why Lord Freyr needed volunteers. They needed to cross into Midgard using the Bifrost.”  
“So you...” Anders couldn’t bring himself to finish.  
“Yes, we had to die.” Fenja closed her eyes again. “We took poison. And after blessing us with the gift of speech so we could communicate with anyone we would meet, should we have to, Lord Bragi himself brought us across the bridge. But... he was not alone. The only one willing to help him and act against Lord Odin’s wishes was his mother, and Lady Frigg... she promised to preserve our bodies, so that when we return, we can be restored. She also used her powers to give us these bodies here.”

Anders felt his throat go dry. “And how...”  
Fenja shook her head without opening her eyes again. “I do not know how she did it. But we did not replace the souls in this body... not before they had left, that is.”  
“...left...”  
“Died.” She finally looked at him again. “She sent us into bodies that had just, just died. But... all four of these bodies were still... being treated. In Resuscitation. There were still doctors and paramedics fighting for their lives. And Lady Frigg... she healed the worst of the damage, so we could survive. But as it was... she couldn't obviously just heal us, so we still needed to recover. And that took a long time... time we didn't really have.”  
“But that wasn't your fault, for fuck's sake!”  
Fenja shrugged. “It wasn't. But it was our fault what happened after we finally found each other again.”

Anders shook his head and stared into the flames. “That is just fucking cruel, you know?”  
“Maybe it is.” Fenja shrugged again. “But that is why it had to happen of our own choosing. Neither Lord Freyr nor Lord Bragi wanted to force us through this.”  
“It's still cruel.” Anders gritted his teeth. “But so... these bodies... they're yours now?”

“They are,” Fenja said after a moment. “With all their memories. And as much as I remember the eternal spring of Alfheim and its crystal clear waters, I remember having learned how to ride a bike, having gone to school... the heartbreak of a teenage girl and the love of a woman. Here, now, for all intents and purposes, I am Fenja Guldbrandsen.”  
Anders was at a complete loss as to what to reply to that.  
“I remember everything that she did when she lived. And I also remember...” She broke off and seemed to suppress a sob.”  
“How she died?” Anders asked hesitantly.  
Fenja nodded.  
“So you... remembered how they died? And how... you...”

“We died twice, you could say it.” She opened her eyes again. “And all that... for nothing. Being trapped in these bodies... with none of our senses, I sometimes feel deaf and blind and numb. So helpless. We had no idea how helpless we would be like this. And we were unable to adjust. None of our plans were possible anymore, and... what we came up with instead was... less than sufficient. It brought about exactly what we were sent here for to prevent. We failed.”  
“Protecting Bragi's charge.”  
Fenja nodded, biting her lips, and a tear trickled down her cheek. 

“Jesus fucking Christ...” Anders looked at her, his throat dry. After a moment, he draped an arm around her shoulder, and Fenja leaned against him.  
“We had no idea... we didn't know anything anymore. It took these bodies so long to heal, and then we had to find each other again without the senses we had relied on. It could well be that it was already too late when we had finally found each other, and him.”

Anders shook his head and licked his lips. “But... shouldn't the gods have known this could happen?”  
Fenja didn't reply at first.  
“Because they had to, right? They're gods, after all. So why didn’t they tell you?”  
“Lord Freyr and Lord Bragi do not have the knowledge of all things that happened and may yet happen that Lord Odin has. And because of him having forbidden any personal involvement, they couldn't ask him.”  
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Anders shook his head again. 

“We failed.” Fenja straightened up again and looked at Anders out of reddened eyes. “We failed Lord Freyr and Lord Bragi, too. We failed to keep his charge safe, and not only that. Our ineptitude made it only worse. What we came up with endangered Russell even more and ultimately, led to you, his father, almost dying at the hands of those very beings we were meant to protect him from!”  
“But if things happened like you say then none of that was your fault?”  
Fenja shrugged with a helpless shake of her head. “We failed to adjust. We failed to change our plans accordingly. We just... we acted short-sightedly and thoughtlessly. We failed, and we... now, we can only await our punishment.”

“Punishment?” Anders almost choked on the word. “You don't mean to...”  
“We failed,” Fenja said sharply, her cheeks still moist. “And not only that, we made it worse and brought him into danger, we brought about exactly what we had been meant to prevent! How could Lord Freyr and Lord Bragi not punish us for our failure?”

Anders was at a loss for words. “But... what will they do to you?”  
“I don't know. But most likely, they will not allow us to return home.”  
“And what does... what happens then?”  
“Our bodies will no longer be, and we will not be allowed to be reborn. And then... if we will not be annihilated... then there is only one place to go. Where all souls go that are denied rebirth or the sanctity of Asgard and the halls of the gods.”  
“I'm almost afraid to ask,” Anders whispered.  
“The realms of Hel,” Fenja replied tonelessly. “To spend the rest of eternity in the dark coldness of her realm.”

“But that's cruel...” Anders felt his chest tighten. “Okay so... so you fucked it up. But... you were turned into normal people... mortals... and... It wasn't really your fault, was it?”  
“It wasn't our fault that we decided to directly approach him to keep him physically close to us instead of watching his surroundings? And that after we failed, we tried to keep him safe by trying to prevent an attempt to save his father? Desperate we were, but none of this should have happened. We failed, and whatever verdict our lords will speak, we have deserved it.”

Anders no longer had any idea what to say. Truth to be told, he had been angry at them, in the beginning, for their more than apparent ineptitude and their failure, but knowing what he knew now... he was convinced that whatever their failures, they didn't warrant their annihilation. Or the halls of Hel. He would have liked to think that neither Freyr, whom he admittedly didn't know, nor Bragi would be that cruel, but the one thing he was sure of was that the gods were selfish bastards. 

He looked at Fenja again who had pulled up her knees and slung her arms around them while staring into the fire, tears still trickling down her cheeks. He would have liked to offer her some sort of comfort. But the truth was, he couldn’t be sure that what she was afraid of wouldn't happen. 

_Bragi, please don't be a dick about this._

But he couldn't even say if Bragi heard, or if he even cared if he did.


	28. Chapter 28

Anders and Fenja spent the rest of the day in more or less uncomfortable silence; Anders because he had no idea what to say anymore and Fenja because she had closed herself off and was just staring into the meagre little fire. 

At one point Anders had to ask her to help him up, and he managed, with some difficulty, to leave the cabin to have a piss. And as he did so, he realised that the grey and heavy clouds had seemingly decided they had held their breaths long enough. It was beginning to snow. After hurrying back inside Anders was already short of breath again, but try as he might to suppress it, he had to cough again. It brought tears to his eyes. 

Fenja hadn't seemed to notice his return; she was sitting on the bench under the window and stared at her hands lying in her lap. Anders cautiously walked over to her side. She didn't move, and he hesitantly followed her eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. The white lines of scar tissue on her wrists were unmistakable and made his chest tighten. 

Finally, she looked up at him, and the tears were back. “Fenja had a husband and a son,” she said haltingly. “Her husband worked on an oil rig. Her son wanted to do so as well. It was the first time he was going out there with his father. But on their way back, the helicopter crashed. No one survived.”  
Anders tried to swallow the lump in his throat, with no success.  
“I remember her pain as clearly as my own,” she continued hoarsely. “I remember the bite of the knife, the feeling of blood pulsing out of my body. The relief when the darkness finally came. I remember everything.”

Anders could only shake his head before he slowly and painfully, lowered himself to the ground again. 

Fenja stared out of the window. “Bjarte and Erle died in a car crash,” she continued. “But I think Torleif's fate is the worst.”  
He didn't want to ask and waited instead.  
“He died of an overdose,” Fenja said after a pause. “And when we go, it will be even more heartbreaking for his family. They believed him to have healed, to have finally left the drugs behind. They got their son back after he had almost died. Or so they believe. He will leave them again, and for good this time. They will have lost him twice.”

That made Anders’s heart ache. He knew how it felt to almost lose a son... and he couldn't, didn't even want to imagine how it must feel to lose him after all. 

“So...” he finally dared to ask. “You will leave here again after we get back to Trondheim, right? Do you think it would help if I try and put a word in for you with Bragi?”  
Fenja gave him a soft, sad smile. “It can't hurt, and I appreciate it. I am grateful you would think of this.”  
“At least you will be able to cross easily this time,” Anders said with a sigh.  
Fenja didn't reply.  
“Won't you?” He looked up at her, but she was still staring at her wrists. “Fenja?”

She finally looked at him again. “We left our bodies behind. We cannot travel across in these bodies, either. We will have to go back the same way we came here.”  
Anders ran both hands through his hair. “So you will have to... again? Like what... die three times? That's just fucking cruel! I mean... even if those gods think you need to be punished... as if that wasn’t fucking punishment enough!”  
Fenja shrugged and looked out of the window again. 

“Right, that does it.” Anders cleared his throat. “Bragi, do you hear this? You can't honestly think about any more punishment for them. I mean, okay, they fucked up, but what happened to them wasn't their fucking fault! Okay, so they didn’t help... so they made mistakes, but they were turned into humans, right? Humans make mistakes. Humans misjudge stuff. And with what they went through to be of service... you can't honestly think about putting them through any more shit?” He hesitated for a moment. “Okay so... I get why you would be pissed off. But in the end, everything turned out all right, right? We fixed this. Fixed what would have been your... I mean, not personally, but the gods' job, you know? So... no one got hurt... I mean, come on, a broken rib is... well, it hurts like fuck, but compared to what could have happened it's nothing to write home about, okay? So no one got seriously hurt, no one died... uh...okay... okay, but you have to admit Johan wasn't really a great loss. It was the first time in his life he did anything good for me. But apart from him, no one got harmed, and we'll all go home again, so please...” He swallowed. “Please let them come home too. Please.”

When he looked up again, he could see Fenja was crying even more now. “Thank you,” she whispered in a hardly suppressed sob. “Thank you.”  
“I don't even know if it'll make a difference,” Anders replied.  
“That you would do this for us after everything...”  
“Oh come on.” Anders shook his head. “No one deserves that. Period.”

Fenja was about to reply to that when Anders felt another cough rise up in his chest. But no matter what he tried, he couldn't hold it back, so he tried to at least not to cough too hard. It still made his eyes water with the pain. He was hardly able to catch his breath back afterwards. 

“Anders...” Fenja lowered herself down beside him again and looked at him deeply worried.  
“Shit.” He let his head drop against the wall. “Fucking cough.”

Anders could feel her rest a hand against his forehead, then at the back of his neck. 

“I fear you may be getting a fever.”  
“So...” Anders shrugged. “Not as if there was anything we can do about it now, can we?”  
“I'm...” She sighed. “I'm worried that this is more than a cough. You might have caught pneumonia in all that cold.”  
“Oh fucking great.” Anders tried to suppress another cough. “Good thing I'm on my way to the hospital then.”

They both looked towards the window again where the snow was now whirling past in thick flakes, white spots visible against the darkening sky. The wind seemed to have picked up speed.

“They will make it to the cabin, won't they?” Anders asked after a moment.  
“I'm sure they will,” Fenja gave back hesitantly. “But if the weather continues like that, they might not be able to continue tomorrow.  
Anders went pale. “Fuck...”

They exchanged a look. 

“There's nothing we can do,” Fenja said in a heavy voice.  
“I know,” Anders replied. “Will the wood last that long?”  
“That depends on the weather. If this turns into a full-blown snowstorm, then we might be stuck here for longer than we bargained for.”

“I guess complaining about being hungry is rather pathetic now, is it?”  
Fenja shrugged, then she leaned back against the wall. “You've already been put through a lot,” she said. “I won't hold anything against you.”  
“Still pathetic,” Anders said and closed his eyes. The next cough was on his way, and there was no stopping it. It left him slightly breathless.

“You think he'll do anything stupid?” Anders asked after a moment.  
Fenja didn't have to ask. “He certainly would at least think of it. But the others won't let him.”  
Anders managed a tired smile. “Handcuffing him to a radiator, right?”  
“Given the circumstances, your brothers might have to sit on him,” Fenja replied.

They exchanged a tired smile, but the chuckle that rose in Anders's chest turned into another cough. His ribs were hurting more now than they had directly after he had broken them. 

“Coughing and broken ribs don't mix well,” he wheezed, eyes falling shut.  
“No,” Fenja replied softly and ran a hand through his hair. “I'm sorry...”  
Anders shook his head. “Hodr, please... this better not turn into a nasty storm. I really, really want to go home.”

Outside, the snowflakes thickened.

* * *

With the temperature dropping considerably now the two of them moved closer together, trying to share as much of the blanket and each other's warmth as they could. They still didn't dare to make a large fire that would keep them warm and only kept it at a minimum to keep the temperature in the cabin somewhat over zero degrees.

The fire gave hardly any light, and the crackling was the only sound apart from Anders's slightly wheezing breaths. He and Fenja had their arms around each other while they huddled as closely together as they could under the blanket, but they were still freezing. 

They had run out of topics of conversation and spend the hours in silence. Hours that felt like weeks. Anders could feel Fenja doze off a few times, but he himself couldn't. His chest hurt too much, and he was freezing too much. The cold had crept back into his bones and he couldn't fall asleep, no matter how exhausted he was. 

With the first grey of morning, it was clear that Hodr hadn't been in a good mood last night. There was no way anyone could be out on a mountainside in this weather, and Anders could only hope and pray that his brothers and the others could stop Russell from doing something incredibly reckless and stupid. 

“Tell me about New Zealand,” Fenja suddenly said.  
“What do you want to know?”  
“Anything you can think of.”  
Anders managed a chuckle without triggering a cough this time. “Okay... we do... there's this tree we have, it's called pōhutukawa and it flowers at Christmas. It's... it's really amazing. They are completely covered in thick, red flowers.”  
“I'm sure it looks amazing.”  
“It does. They're completely unremarkable the rest of the year, and at Christmas they turn into these huge, red, fiery...” Another cough stopped him from finishing the sentence. “Shit,” he muttered after catching his breath back. “This fucking hurts.”

He felt Fenja run her fingers through his hair again and looked up at her, to find her looking at him with soft, compassionate eyes. Beautiful eyes, as he now discovered, up close and in daylight. Crystal clear blue, almost translucent. 

The touch of her fingers, running through his hair and the other hand gently massaging the back of his neck was a pleasant distraction from the constant pain. And he wished he could appreciate it more. It would have been a very effective distraction. Especially now, looking at her slightly parted lips, as if she was about to kiss him. Not that he would have been able to do anything else, but still....

And then he realised that instead of the desire to do just that, to kiss those inviting, full lips, he just felt a tired resignation. This wasn't going anywhere, it couldn't. She was going to leave this world for good anytime soon. And to be honest... he didn't want this. Kissing her might have been nice... and as much as he felt a certain attraction to her despite the state his body was in, the thought of doing something about it was suddenly more tiring than anything else. 

Her lips were close now, but Anders just slowly turned his head and looked away. She didn't move, but after a moment, rested her head on his shoulder again. 

And finally, after more than twelve years, Anders suddenly understood what Christine had meant, back then, that day on the beach. Understood why she had done it. That feeling of tiredness, thinking of another attempt. It just... it wasn't worth it. And not only because Fenja was about to go. It just wasn't worth it. Not even for the brief, fleeting comfort of a quickie or a snog.

And here he was... Anders Johnson, trapped in a cabin on a mountainside, snowed in with a beautiful woman who was willing to give him whatever physical comfort her body could offer...

... and he would have cut off his dick with a butter knife to exchange her for Christine right now.

* * *

The hours trickled by with them huddled under the blanket, the fire burning low and emitting hardly any warmth. The snow didn't stop. It didn't lessen. Night fell, and it was still snowing when the last light had vanished. 

Anders and Fenja kept staring at the fire in the knowledge that at some point during the night, or the next day if they were lucky, they would run out of wood. There were a few benches lined along the walls of the cabin, but those were screwed to the walls, most likely to prevent them from becoming firewood themselves, and with no tools whatsoever they might as well have been made of tinfoil. 

The fire went out around what they guessed had to be noon, and as they knelt next to the fireplace to warm their hands over the last glowing embers, they exchanged a look of tired determination. Fenja occasionally spread the blanket onto the hearthstones that were still warm, but that tiny bit of warmth helped little. 

During that afternoon, Anders could feel the beginnings of a fever, the light-headedness, the shivering in his muscles that had nothing to do with the outside temperature. His breath was now coming in short gasps, and the coughing got worse. Sometimes, he got hardly any breath back before the next bout of coughing came. 

But at one point during the night that they spent holding on to each other, the snow storm finally blew itself out, and the new day dawned with a clear sky. They exchanged a tired, yet hopeful smile. 

But by then, the last residual warmth that had lingered in the heavy hearthstones had vanished. 

Anders was shaking so badly his teeth rattled. 

“You're burning,” Fenja whispered as she felt the skin on the back of his neck.  
Anders managed a weak grin. “Great. Just use me as a hot water bottle then,” he wheezed.  
She shook her head with a forced smile. “At least you haven't lost your spirit yet.”  
“Hanging in there,” Anders whispered before another coughing fit left him left him gasping for breath. 

As the afternoon wore on, Anders began to fade in and out of consciousness. He was hallucinating again; he could hear the elf bitch taunt him, he could hear his father sneer. But he also heard Russell begging him to hold on. With sundown, he had to grit his teeth with every breath. 

He couldn't feel his feet anymore. It was dark outside now, the sky clear and the stars close and bright due to the absence of any artificial light. In the utter darkness it was almost as if he was right among them. Floating... like Major Tom... floating in a tin can....

“Anders...”  
“High... above the world...” Anders rasped with a smile, his eyes falling shut.  
“Anders, please...”  
“Ground control to Major Tom...” He would have chuckled, if he had any breath left. His voice was only a husky whisper.

“Anders, please stop...”  
“Can you hear me Major Tom...”  
“Anders stop, please, stop, you're scaring me....”  
“Can you hear me Major Tom...” It was hardly audible anymore.  
“Anders...”  
“Can you...”  
“Anders! Shut up!”  
“Can...”  
“Anders, stop! Listen!”

Anders tried to open his eyes. “What?”  
“Can you hear that?” Fenja's voice was trembling.  
“Hear what...”  
“Can't you hear it?”

Anders wasn't sure the soft humming he heard wasn't, in fact, just in his own ears.

“Anders, listen...”  
“Can't hear...”

And then he heard it. A low key, rhythmic hum. Getting louder.

“Anders...” Fenja patted his cheek and he managed to open his eyes. He saw tears on her cheeks but with an incredulous smile on her face. “You hear that?”  
“...what...”  
“It's a helicopter...” She ran a hand down his cheek. “It's a helicopter! We... we made it. We're saved...”

They looked at each other, and despite the state he was in, Anders managed to return Fenja’s smile.

The two of them listened to the helicopter getting closer and eventually, the door to the hut was pushed open. Paramedics filed in, and a gurney, and Anders was lifted off the ground and placed onto that, his upper body raised. Something was pressed on his face, and with waning consciousness, he realised it had to be an oxygen mask. It didn't make breathing any easier, but he no longer felt as starved for air after a few moments as he had been.

Then he felt a sting on the back of his left hand, and someone patting his right, he could hear calming, reassuring words in a language he didn't understand. Strangely detached he watched a butterfly cannula being placed in the back of his hand, and he could see someone attach a tube to that, and an IV bag to one of the valves, and then someone injected something through the other valve. 

Moments later, he could feel the pain in his chest slowly beginning to abate. The aching cold vanished, and with the pain finally dropping to a bearable level, he gladly surrendered to his exhaustion and slipped into darkness.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mention of suicide by gun further down in the chapter.**

When Anders’s consciousness finally returned to him, and after he had managed to open his eyes, he found himself staring at a white ceiling. He was lying in a bed, the upper end somewhat raised. But he immediately noticed the absence of pain in his chest. That meant he was probably drugged to the eyeballs with painkillers... but he was thinking rather clearly, he realised as well. 

Which begged the question of how long he had been out. He had the rather unpleasant sensation of a tube going through his nose and down his throat which meant gavage, and there was also a tube sitting in the other nostril which was probably oxygen. But the thing in his throat made him gag, and he lifted a hand to his face. The tube was taped to his cheek.

“Anders!”  
He managed to turn his head and a face came into view on his left. It took him a moment to focus. “Mikkel?”  
Mike smiled in relief, his eyes moist. “Welcome back.”  
“How long... how long have I been out?”  
Mike gently took his left hand and closed his fingers around Anders’s. “Three weeks.”  
“What?”  
“You were in a pretty bad shape when they brought you back,” Mike said in a low voice. “Hypothermia, pneumonia, broken ribs. They kept you in a coma and pumped you full of all sorts of drugs.”

Their eyes met.

“Shit,” Anders whispered. “I didn’t realise it was that bad.”  
Mike closed his other hand around Anders’s too, careful not to touch the cannula. “You gave us quite the scare, I admit that. But I’m glad to see you’re better.”  
“Glad like fuck.” Anders swallowed and grimaced. “Can I get rid of this fucking thing in my nose?”  
“I page a nurse.”

Anders managed to go through the procedure of having the stomach tube removed without hurling, but it had been a near thing. Now he was holding on to a glass of water, and while his fingers were weak and trembling, he could at least drink on his own. 

“How’s Russell?” Anders asked as he handed Mike the empty glass. “Where is he?”  
“You probably won’t believe this,” Mike said as he put the glass down on the nightstand. “But he’s in school.”  
“He is what?”

“You see, Bragi seemed to want to help fix this.” Mike chuckled and shook his head. “Anders, you should have seen him. He was in full cry, doing the Bragi thing, like you used to back then, and he talked everyone and their mother into doing what he wanted them to. So basically, no one in mountain rescue have asked what one of our group was doing in a cabin close to the glacier without a coat and boots, and now everyone, from his host family to the police and his school, now know the story of a freakish sect who wanted to sacrifice his father to a tree. It’s in the papers, even. Sorted everything. Just like that.” Mike snapped his fingers. “I mean, he made up as little as he could, obviously, and only bent the truth where he had to, but boy... once he found out what he could do, he took full advantage of it.”

Anders could only shake his head.  
“So your part in the story is that back when you were here before, you had a run-in with them, or rather, with one of them. A woman to be precise. And that... encounter has now been held responsible for a predicted event that somehow failed to occur.”  
“Sounds perfectly reasonable, from a sect-ish point of view.”  
“Exactly. And then there’s fluke involved, obviously. So back then, it was a Kiwi named Johnson who did it, and when someone came across a Kiwi named Johnson they checked the connection and Bingo!”  
Anders shook his head again, with a smile this time. “And why didn’t we go to the police?”  
Now Mike had to laugh. “I didn’t catch that myself. He was talking a mile a minute with three different people at once in Norwegian. We were just standing there nodding like idiots.”

“So he has Bragi’s voice now?” Anders let his head drop back and stared at the ceiling.  
“Looks like it.” Mike adjusted his chair. “And all without a lightning bolt.”  
Anders snorted. “I guess he’d have rather had the lightning bolt, compared to what actually happened.”  
“Possibly.” Mike let go of Anders’s hand and placed it on his chest. “So, as I said, he’s in school. He stayed home for a few days, but he said he didn’t want having to do the year again, and as it was he could still get full credits, because of the week of holidays he didn’t miss as much. So he just went back.”  
“Just like that?”

Mike hesitated for a moment. “For now, he’s fine. But you and I both know that he isn’t. And I’m sure he’ll agree to that too. For now, and I quote, he’s running things on autopilot. So once we’re back home, I guess it’s time for you two to go back to therapy. Some sort of trauma counselling, the doctors here have said so, too.”  
Anders nodded slowly. “And for now?”  
“For now, you focus on getting well. The doctors said they want to keep you in for at least four more weeks and preferably longer than that.”  
“I want to be home for Christmas,” Anders said, fully aware that he sounded like a petulant child.  
“We get you home for Christmas,” Mike replied calmly. “As a last resort you can always leave hospital at your own risk, you know? Discharge yourself against doctor’s orders and fuck off.”  
Anders nodded.

“Worst that can happen is you have to go back to hospital, back home that is.”  
“But that will be in Auckland.”  
“It’ll still be a fucking hospital with fucking hospital food,” Mike replied with a tiny smile.  
“Yes, but it’ll be a fucking Kiwi hospital and fucking Kiwi hospital food and Kiwis nurses and... and fuck...” Anders had to blink rapidly a few times. “I’m fucking homesick, Mikkel. I just wanna go home.”  
“It’s only a matter of time, Anders.” Mike smiled encouragingly. “Fact is, you can’t go now, and so you just wait until Russell’s term is finished. Then you’ll both be home for Christmas.”

Anders heaved a heavy sigh, but he couldn’t deny the fact that this was the only solution that made sense. 

“So,” he said then in an attempt at stopping himself from being overwhelmed by homesickness. “What about the others?”  
Mike leaned back in the chair. “Ty and Axl have gone home already. Ty didn’t want to at first, but we told him to go back home to his four girls.”  
Anders had to smile. “And Axl? Did he make it in time?”  
“He did.” Mike’s smile softened. “Two days, but he made it.” Then he dug into his pocket and produced his phone. He scrolled through the pictures and held it out to Anders.

Anders looked at the screen, and at his little baby brother beaming at the camera with the most idiotic, most adorable grin, his arm around Hanna whose smile was less idiotic but as radiant. And in her arms was a bundle with a tiny crumpled face peeking out the folds of the blanket.

“It’s a girl,” Mike said and chuckled. “Seems the guy who did the ultrasound got it wrong, now they have to come up with a new name.”  
Anders had to grin as well as he handed Mike the phone back.

“Who would've thought it that the Johnson clan would be so prosperous,” Mike said after a moment with a wistful smile. “To be honest, the only one I thought would ever procreate would be Ty.”  
Anders shook his head. “Same here. Axl... maybe. You... I had hoped you'd manage. But sure as fuck not me.”  
“Not that you planned that.”  
Anders closed his eyes. “No.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And I wasn't... Christ, you know me. But when... when I wrote Russell that letter, I realised something.” He broke off and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I sometimes think that he may have saved my life.”

“Anders?” Mike leaned forward. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  
Anders looked at his brother again. “Don't tell me you didn't know I was doing other stuff than heaps of booze back then.”  
Mike pressed his lips together. “From what I know it was snow.”  
“It wasn't only snow, Mikkel.” Anders closed his eyes with a shake of his head. “Tried several other things. Party drugs. Stuff where no one really knows how they mix with alcohol.” He swallowed. “You know, looking back, I often think it was only a question of when, not if, you'd have gotten a call from the police telling you to come to the morgue and identify your brother.”  
“I'd be lying if I say I hadn't been thinking along the same lines sometimes, back then.”

Their eyes met for a moment. 

Then Anders tried to smile. “Russell was the best that ever happened to me, no matter what I thought about the whole thing when I took him home with me to Auckland.”  
“I know.” Mike closed his hand around Anders's upper arm. “I know, Andy. 

There was a knock on the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Mike said and got up, a smile of relief on his face. Quite obviously, he had been as uncomfortable with the topic as Anders. 

“Hey,” he said as he opened the door. “He woke up not long ago.”  
“Really?” Russell pushed past Mike and hurried to the bedside, Olaf in tow. His face lit up and his eyes were bright with joy. “Dad!”  
Anders couldn't help but return the bright and happy smile. “It's good to see you. Help me sit up, will you?”

His smile lessening but not quite turning into a frown, Russell took the remote to the bed and raised the upper end until Anders was almost sitting upright. “You sure you should be sitting up already?”  
“I don't care if I should or not,” Anders gave back. “I want to give you a proper hug and I can't do that when I'm lying down.”

His smile returning, Russell sat cautiously down on the mattress and Anders opened his arms. Russell leaned into his embrace with a sigh and closed his eyes as Anders closed his eyes around his son, as firmly as he could. 

“God... Dad, you had me so scared,” Russell muttered after a moment. “You seemed okay-ish when we left, and you were half-dead when you arrived here.”  
“I'm sorry...” Anders began, but Russell cut him off.  
“Geez, it's not as if that was your fault now, was it?”  
“No.” Anders lowered his head and buried his nose into Russell's hair. It felt smoother and more even now than he remembered, and he lifted his head again. “Let me look at you.”

Russell leaned back, and Anders mustered his new look. His hair had been trimmed back and into shape, short at the back of his neck and longer on the top of his head, with the hair in front somewhat longer still and hanging in spiky strands down his forehead. 

“Looking surprisingly good like that,” Anders said with a smile.  
“Uh...” Russell combed his fingers through the longer strands on his forehead. “I had to, I mean... I looked like I cut my own hair without a mirror while I was too hammered to use a pair of scissors. So... I didn't want to look like an idiot. And I managed to find a cut that doesn't need styling. I hate putting stinking gunk into my hair.”  
“Looking good,” Anders said again, more firmly. “You gonna keep it that way?”  
“Honestly? I don't know.” Russell ran a hand over the very short hairs at the back of his head. “It feels fucking weird. Maybe I'll let it grow out again after all.”  
“Doesn't really matter now, does it?” Anders said brightly. “You're a looker either way.”  
“Dad...” Russell’s' cheeks began to glow. 

“So,” Anders said to change the topic. “How's it going, back in school?”  
“It's actually going okay,” Russell replied, his smile returning. “I'm pretty popular, all of a sudden, with the crazy story I've been telling. I didn't miss out on much, either, and the teachers go pretty easy on me, too. At least for now.”  
“And apart from that?”

Russell took a deep breath. “I'm not gonna lie, Dad. I've got bad dreams, but not every night. And it's not that I wake up screaming. But I'm pretty scared when I wake up, and I really wish I could go next door and let you hug me.”  
“Hey.” Anders took one of Russell's hands with a soft, but encouraging smile. “We sort this out. We'll get over this together, once we're back home. Okay?”  
“Okay.” Russell nodded and was able to smile again. 

“Say.” Anders licked his lips after a moment. “The letter...”  
Russell’s eyes narrowed. “What letter?”  
“The... the one I wrote...” Anders couldn’t meet his eyes for a moment.  
“Oh, that.” Russell shook his head. “Mike wanted to give it to me, that night after... the exchange. I didn’t want it.”  
“Didn’t think you would,” Anders said in a low voice. “I still thought...”  
“I burned it. And you know why?”  
Anders lifted both eyebrows questioningly.  
“I want you to sit down with me over a coffee, once we’re home, and tell me yourself.”  
Shaking his head with a chuckle, Anders met his son’s eyes. “Promised.”

They smiled at each other for a moment before Russell shifted his position.

“So...” Anders looked back and forth between his brother and his son. “What about the light elves? What about Fenja? How is she?”

Olaf, Russell and Mike exchanged an unhappy look, and Anders felt his heart sink.

“It was in the papers yesterday,” Olaf said after a moment in a heavy voice.  
“They found a red estate car down at Gjendesheim, it had been parked there for a few days,” Russell continued. “And because of what I told them about the sect and shit, they sent a rescue party up on the Tjønnholtstind.” He hesitated for a moment. “They found four bodies up on the glacier, and all of them had been killed by the same shotgun. The police said everything points at a collective suicide.”

“Shit.” Anders closed his eyes, a heavy lump in his throat. “I just hope they made it.”  
“Made it?” Mike exchanged a puzzled look with Russell. “What do you mean, made it?”  
“Made it back home,” Anders said. “Because....” And then he realised the others would have no idea about the whole thing that Fenja had told him. 

The three of them were a bit shocked when Anders had finished explaining. 

“But that's...” Russell's eyes were shiny with moisture. “I mean okay... they weren't really useful, but that's not fair.”  
“I know.” Anders shook his head. “I know, that's what I thought. “I would like to think Bragi isn't that cruel, but the truth is I don't know.”  
“He wouldn't,” Russell gave back. “He wouldn't.”  
“Fuck if I know.” Anders leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I tried talking to him. Maybe... you have the voice of Bragi, right? Maybe you can put in a word for them as well?”

After a moment, Russell got up and silently walked over to the window. He gripped the windowsill and stared out, and after a moment, he began to talk in a low voice. It took Anders a moment to realise that it wasn't because Russell was mumbling that he couldn't understand a word, but because he was speaking Old Norse.

He fell silent for a long moment after that, and he walked back to the bed with heavy steps. Sitting down on the mattress again, he looked at his father. 

“I don't have the voice of Bragi.”  
“But...” Anders blinked a few times in confusion. “Not?”  
“Not anymore.” Russell shrugged. “I mean... it came in handy, like, very much so, to sort everything and... but... I asked him to take it back. And he did. I tried.”  
“You what?” Anders shook his head, and he could see Mike and Olaf exchange a baffled look. “Why?”

Russell tilted his head and still met Anders eyes. “Because it makes things easy... but it also makes things too easy. And it’s so tempting. So I use it because I need to, and then because I think I need to, and then because I really, really want to... and suddenly it’s a habit and... and I could talk myself into or out of anything I want. But whatever... whatever I do with it, if I pick up a guy or get five thousand copies of my first CD for free.... it wouldn't have been me, you know? I don't really.... It makes everything easy, and I would never know again what an achievement is. It would always have been the voice... and not me.”

Anders was close to tears and there it was again, that fucking brick in his throat that only Russell could put there. “Oh Russ...” he whispered hoarsely. “I... you know, for all those years I hoped and prayed that you would become a better man than me. And now it turns out that you already are.”

“Dad...” Russell stared at his hands.  
“No. Russ, please look at me.”  
Russell did so, but only very hesitantly.  
“I mean it.” Anders took both his son's hands in his. “I only ever used the Bragi voice for my own ends. Picked up girls, just as you said, and get my end away. Talked myself out of trouble I got myself into. I helped my brothers in a pinch a few times... but that was about it. I was a selfish prick and the Bragi voice only made it worse.”

After a moment, Russell gave Anders a crooked little smile. “Huh.” He shrugged. “Looks like _my_ father didn't fuck up in teaching his son how to be a good man.”

Anders tried fruitlessly to blink his tears away, and he silently opened his arms again. Russell leaned into his embrace again, and they held on to each other for a long while.  
The brick refused to budge. It hurt to swallow past it. And there were words stuck in his throat trying to force themselves out... but he couldn't bring himself to say them. He had never said them. He had never heard anyone say them to him and mean them. He wanted to. And he couldn't. Writing them was so much easier.

Russell snuggled into his embrace with a sigh. “And you're the best dad ever,” he muttered. “Still, and forever. Love you, Dad.”  
There it was. The brick in his throat suddenly crumbled to dust, and his voice was dry and hoarse as he buried his face into Russell's hair. “Love you too,” he whispered. “And god... I'm so proud of you... My son...”  
Russell leaned back and pressed his forehead against his father's. 

Someone sniffed heartily, and they both looked up to see Olaf wipe a hand across his nose and Mike rub the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Why is it that you two always have to utilize hospital beds to break people's hearts?” Olaf asked with a shake of his head.  
“I guess...” Russell looked at Anders, and both of them smiled. “I guess history has a way of repeating itself.”  
“Only this time it's me in the bed and he’s the one with the new haircut,” Anders added. 

Russell snorted, and with that, they all had to laugh. It was relieving after all that lay behind them, and they didn't stop chuckling until Anders was getting too tired to sit up any longer and needed to rest.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find more facial references [here](http://lakritzwolf.tumblr.com/2V_Cast).
> 
> Likewise, blame drakkhammerwrites for putting [this thing](https://40.media.tumblr.com/d37dc5149a29f5d1bf5655e0acd33a63/tumblr_inline_o40tcyD00b1t7ubqo_500.jpg) on my dash that is the fault for Russell's new haircut.

Russell’s last day of school was Friday the 19th of December and they had the tickets booked for Sunday, meaning they would be back home in Auckland just before Christmas. The doctors at St Olaf’s hospital in Trondheim – a name that had been the cause for lots of jokes during Anders’s stay there – had been understanding about Anders wanting to leave the hospital but had still advised against it.  
Anders was completely out of fucks. He wanted to go home. 

They had booked first class for the whole way back. Not because he wanted to celebrate, but simply because there was more room, and he wasn’t really recovered yet. Being able to stretch his legs and relieve pressure off his chest would not be a luxury but a necessity if he was to make it through thirty hours of flight without cramps that would cause respiratory problems. Which was the reason for the doctors having advised against him leaving the hospital. The pneumonia had left his lungs in a weakened state and due to the fact he had been forced to move around that much after breaking his ribs and all the coughing, the damage had been worsened, and those hadn’t really healed yet, either. 

Anders still didn’t care much. Admittedly, he was worried how he would manage the long haul flight in his condition, but he would gladly crawl out of the plane in Auckland if he would just get there eventually.

As they had hoped, travelling first class made things more bearable, and changing flights in Copenhagen after three hours was no problem at all.  
Changing flights in Singapore however, after another twelve hours, was already more of a challenge, and Anders was gritting his teeth on his way through the terminals, unable to even carry his hand luggage.

The last leg of the journey was quickly turning from unpleasant to dreadful. Anders didn’t know anymore how to sit, where to put his legs, and focussed on breathing. His chest hurt. His back hurt, too. All that discomfort completely drowned out the eager expectation to be on his way home he had felt at the beginning of the journey. The hours crawled by, and at one point Olaf told him to kneel down and gave him a bit of a back massage. It earned them a few funny looks from the crew and fellow passengers. Anders couldn’t have cared less.

Of course he had painkillers, but those made him pretty drowsy and he hadn’t wanted to end up trying to catch a plane or staggering through terminals half conscious and stoned out of his skull, so he hadn’t taken any. 

He had also put his watch into his pocket not so long after leaving Copenhagen, as he had already been staring at it almost every ten minutes. So by now he had lost every feeling of time, and just had his eyes closed while trying to find a way to breathe that didn’t hurt.

“Dad...” Russell softly nudged him in the side.  
“Hm?” Anders opened his eyes.  
“Look.” 

Anders looked out of the window. Seconds later, his vision blurred a bit. Auckland had a rather distinctive silhouette.

“Almost home,” Russell whispered and took one of Anders’s hands.  
Anders couldn’t find any words.

Touchdown was only minutes later, but those minutes took several hours to pass. And when Anders finally left the plane, he had to stop and close his eyes for a moment. 

_Homeland Soil._

“Andy?”  
He felt a hand at his left elbow and opened his eyes to find Mike look at him with worry.  
“I’m fine.” Anders managed a smile. “I’m... really. I’m fine.”

Anders made it through checkout, passport control, customs and luggage retrieval. Home. Against all expectations. Almost, almost home.

“Ty is going to pick us up,” Mike said as they headed for the exit. “And he said that...” 

A shriek made them all wince, and something small with turquoise hair shot past them and threw itself at Russell who could only drop everything and open his arms. 

Emma clamped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck and Russell held on to her while spinning her around like a child. Both were laughing and crying simultaneously. 

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Emma buried her face in Russell’s shoulder. “Don’t you ever dare do that again!”  
“Do what?” Russell asked with a breathless laugh.  
“Get kidnapped and almost killed by freaks from a freakish sect!” She leaned back and looked at her friend. “Do you hear me! Never again!”  
“Never again, Dash,” Russell chuckled. “Don’t worry.”

“Dash?” Anders asked with a slightly confused smile.  
“Rainbow Dash,” Russell said, as if that explained everything. “It’s... a long story.”  
“Thought so.” Anders rolled his shoulders and turned around again. 

“Hey.” Christine had reached him now as well. “Welcome home.”

Anders took a deep breath, tried to say something, and then settled for simply stepping forward and embracing her. Christine closed her arms around him and they both held on as tightly as they could for several minutes. 

“Can I add my word to my daughter’s?” Christine said softly. “Don’t ever do that again.”  
“Got better things to do,” Anders muttered into her hair. “Fuck...” His voice began to tremble. “Chris... I missed you like fuck.”  
“Oh you...” Christine leaned back and sorted a few strands of his hair. “I’m just glad I didn’t hear anything about it before Ty and Axl came back and it was clear you’d be all right and coming home. I’d have worried myself half to death.” She gave him a long, critical look.  
Anders shrugged with a crooked smile. “I didn’t do it on purpose, you know?”  
She shook her head with a sigh and a smile. “I’m just glad you’re home and okay.” Then she frowned. “You are okay, aren’t you?”  
“Apart from broken ribs that haven’t healed yet and... stuff. I’m okay.”  
“Stuff?”  
“You know.” Anders licked his lips with a flick of his tongue. “Stuff. I mean... stuff that isn’t physical.”  
“Oh.” She swallowed. “Oh dear, yes. You tell me if there’s ever anything I can do, right?”

Anders leaned back and smiled his sweetest smile with raised eyebrows and puppy eyes. “You could marry me.”  
“Anders.” She lifted one eyebrow.  
“I mean, you wouldn’t even have to sleep in my bed. I got an extra bedroom, you know? I just want you around.”  
“Anders fucking Johnson.” Christine rolled her eyes heavenwards and took a small step back. “I am not going to marry you. But I got something for you.” With that, she dug into her handbag and produced a lunch box. “Here. Made them this morning.”

Anders took the box and opened it to find a batch of ANZAC biscuits, and they weren’t even stale, old and rancid. He popped one into his mouth whole and chewed it with an expression of utter bliss on his face.

“Like them?”  
“Best ever. Marry me?”  
“No. Eat your biscuits.”

Anders took another one and both he and Christine chuckled, even if Anders had some trouble with his mouth full.

By now, Emma had unpeeled herself from Russell and now took his hand to drag him towards a couple of benches and towards a young man, seemingly of Russell’s age or maybe a year older, who was sitting there waiting. He had long, dark hair, sideburns and a goatee, and he wore black jeans, a black shirt and a T-shirt with a band logo. As they approached, he got up and the smile on his face turned into a huge, bright grin. 

“Russ!”  
“Danny! What are you doing here, man?”  
He jerked a thumb at Emma. “She dragged me along.”

The two looked at each other for a moment. 

“Dude, what happened to your hair?”  
Russell ran a hand through the short hairs at the back of his head with a self-conscious grin. “Thought I try a new look.”  
Danny lifted both eyebrows.  
“It’s a fucking long story. Like it?”  
“I liked it better when it was long,” Danny blurted out, and for a moment, there was a strained and embarrassed silence. 

“Oh, come here,” Russell said then and embraced his friend. 

Danny closed his arms around Russell, who was only a bit smaller and of slighter stature, and the two held on tightly, slapping and rubbing hands up and down each others’ backs. 

Anders watched them with a smile. Well. That hug was maybe a bit tighter, and a bit longer than friends would normally hug. But then, they hadn’t seen each other in months. On the other hand, Russell had talked about a crush back then, when he had come out. So maybe...  
Anders stopped himself from grinning by the means of taking another biscuit. He would wish it for Russell, he deserved it. And Russ and Danny would really make a cute couple. 

_Oh stop that and fuck off, you idiot._

By the time they had reached the cars Anders handed the empty lunch box back to Christine who threw it into the boot together with Anders’s and Russell’s luggage. Anders took the passenger seat while Russell and Emma slid in the back. Danny had given Russell another hug and had headed for his own car with the promise to catch up soon. Olaf and Mike went with Ty.

“Your family has prepped a bit of a get-together at your place,” Christine said on the way through Auckland. “Invited us, too.”  
“If they hadn’t, I would’ve.” Anders looked out of the window and his voice caught on the last word. Christine pretended not to notice. 

After getting out of the car in front of the garage, Anders stared at the house for a long moment and straightened his jacket several times before he finally tore himself loose and headed for the door. He didn’t have a key at present, but Ty had, and he opened the door and stepped aside to let Anders pass. 

His steps were heavier now, as he stepped over the threshold to his home. But before he could get emotional he was suddenly surrounded by a gaggle of kids.

“Uncle Andy! Uncle Andy!”  
“Uncle Andy!”  
“Hey, Uncle Andy!

Anders had to smile, a smile that turned into a grin, and he spent some time patting heads and ruffling hair. And when the kids had sufficiently welcomed their uncle home and dispersed again to throw themselves screeching at Russell who had just come in, Anders found himself face to face with Dawn. Her cheeks were wet. 

“Welcome home,” she said, her voice unsteady.  
“Dawnsie...” Anders shook his head and opened his arms. By now, he was hard pressed to keep himself together. 

They hugged tightly for a while, and as opposed to Anders, Dawn apparently didn’t feel any inhibitions about her tears. 

“Oh Dawnsie...” he whispered into her hair. “It’s good to see you. It’s so good to see you.”  
“I can assure you, that feeling is entirely mutual,” Dawn replied and leaned back. Smiling through her tears, she ran a hand down his cheek, then she leaned forward again and placed a kiss onto the other before stepping back.

“Hey Anders!” Axl walked over and pulled him into a hug, a very cautious one as opposed to the rib-crackers he usually handed out. “Good to see you back.”  
“Same here. How’s the procreation going? Knocked her up again yet?”

Axl shook his head with a mildly exasperated smile, but then Hanna stepped next to him. She pressed the little bundle into Axl’s arms and pulled Anders into an embrace. The caught him unawares, as he and Hanna had never been exceptionally close. 

“Welcome home,” she said and leaned back again, a warm smile on her face.  
“Thank you.” Anders smiled as well. “Did everything go well?”  
“Almost too well,” Hanna gave back with a small huff. “Almost didn’t make it into the hospital.”  
“In a hurry, was she?”  
“Seemed like.” Then she took the bundle from Axl and showed it to Anders. 

She looked like any other baby at six weeks, with no real features, a few wisps of dark hair and her eyes closed, a bit like a doll, really. Anders had never been much for babies, and had only ever held them when his brothers had shoved them into his arms to take a picture that would later be titled with _You and your Uncle Andy_ with a date added.

“Her name’s Layla.” Hanna cast her daughter a soft look. 

He had known he would never meet her, back when she was still in her mother’s belly. How things had changed. Now he was meeting her after all. 

Anders had no idea what made him do it, but he held out his arms. Hanna’s smile became warmer as she gently handed him the baby and Layla opened her eyes to squint up at him with an expression of perpetual confusion.

“Hello Layla.” Anders stared down at the tiny face. “Nice to meet you.”  
Layla remained unimpressed by her first meeting with Uncle Andy and by the tremor in his voice.

“I’m sure you’ll have your brothers wrapped around your little finger in no time.” He handed her back to her mother, almost reluctantly.  
“Oh, she already has,” Hanna replied with a laugh. “She so much as pops a fart they’re both at her cot in a second.”

Anders chuckled and turned around when someone tapped his shoulder.

Ty and Dawn were grinning art him, and Ty had a large platter in his hand that was covered with a paper towel. 

“We made cupcakes,” Dawn said with a smug little smile.  
“Special Edition,” Ty added, his smile matching Dawn’s.  
“Special Edition?” Anders chuckled again. “I guess it’s neither flowers nor cactuses, ‘cause we already had those.”  
“No flowers,” Dawn said.  
“No cactuses,” Ty added. “In fact, no plants.”

Anders tilted his head and cast a speculative, expectant look at the covered platter.

The two exchanged a smile and a nod, then Dawn removed the kitchen towel. 

What Anders had expected were fish. 

What he got were the unmistakable shapes of small, round birds with long beaks and without wings; chocolate figures, topping each chocolate cupcake with white chocolate frosting. 

“Kiwi cupcakes,” Dawn said, and she and Ty looked at each other with a smile and a nod. 

Anders stared at the cupcakes.

He had kept himself up so well, through thirty hours of flight and hurrying through airport terminals, coming home, touching homeland soil and entering the house he had believed he’d never come back to. Meeting a family member he thought he’d never see. 

But now, he finally lost it. His eyes pinched shut he covered his mouth with one hand, but he was fighting a losing battle. He moved his hand up to cover his eyes, but the dam broke, and he choked out a sob he had no means to suppress. He was suddenly long past the point where he was ashamed of his tears and his shoulders began to shake. 

At that moment, Russell had reached him and threw both arms around him.

Anders didn’t hear them and didn’t feel them approach, but within moments his brothers and Olaf too were enveloping him and Russell in a firm, warm group hug that suddenly was the only thing that kept him upright.

He lost awareness of space and time for a moment, but at one point he found himself in the living room, being more or less manhandled onto a sofa, divested of his shoes and propped up by a load of pillows. Then Ruby was approaching him, carrying a cup with her tongue sticking out in deep concentration. 

She grinned at him in triumph when she had reached him without spilling anything. “I brought you a coffee, Uncle Andy!”  
“Thank you.” Anders took the cup. “You’re an angel.”

Ruby beamed in pride at the praise and hurried into the kitchen to tell her mother. Subsequently, Anders found himself equipped with coffees almost faster than he could drink them as the sisters were trying to out-angel each other.

Things got out of hand when then twins were tasked by Axl to bring their uncle a cupcake, and both Dawn and Hanna had to firmly intervene and throw them all out because the cupcake was in danger of ending up on the carpet and Anders was in danger of getting between the frontlines. 

Anders sat up a little with an exasperated little chuckle as the atmosphere had calmed down again and looked at the little masterpiece on his plate with a wistful smile. 

“Almost too pretty to eat,” Russell said as he flopped down on the other sofa next to Anders, balancing two cupcakes on his own plate.  
“True.” Anders admired the cupcake and the chocolate kiwi topping it.  
“But you know...” Russell picked one of the kiwis of a cupcake and after leaning his head back, dropped it into his mouth. “Gotta replenish the Kiwi-level.” Chewing, he looked at his father again and grinned. 

Anders looked at the cupcake, picked off the kiwi and popped it into his mouth.


	31. Chapter 31

Jet-lag and exhaustion soon took their toll, but Anders wasn’t complaining as he dragged himself up the stairs. He took the pain medication after all and crawled into his bed.

His bed. 

Home. 

There was a soft knock on the door and Anders heard Christine’s voice. 

“Anders? Are you okay? Do you need anything else? We’re about to go home, too.” She walked over to the bed and sat down on the mattress beside him.  
“Nah, I’m... I’m fine.” He managed a smile.  
Christine frowned. “You don’t look fine.”  
“I’m just fucking exhausted and the pain meds fuck me up in the head, is all.”  
She smiled and pulled up the blanket to tuck him in. “Allrighty. Rest well.”

Anders reached for her hand. “Chris?”  
“No, I’m not going to marry you.”  
“I wasn’t going to ask that again,” Anders quipped back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”  
Christine rolled her eyes. “And here I was afraid for a moment you’d lost your snark.”  
“If that happens you can start planning my funeral.”  
“Anders!”

They looked at each other, Anders with a puppy smile and Christine with an exasperated sigh.

“I was just... wanted to say I missed you.” Anders squeezed her hand. “And it’s... it’s good to be home.”  
Christine’s smile softened considerably. “Good to have you back.” She ran a hand down his cheek and leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “Good night, Anders. Welcome home.”

* * *

Knocked out by the pain meds as he was Anders slept like the dead that night. But when he woke up, he did so to a sight he thought he’d never see again. 

Russell was curled up under the other duvet on the other side of the bed, still deep asleep. 

Since he was forced to lie on his back he couldn’t turn around, so he just adjusted his position turned his head to watch him sleep. It was the first time he could properly look at him without anything around them or inside his mind or body distracting him. At that moment Russell turned around, stretched and curled up again, this time hugging the bunched up duvet. He didn’t wake up yet, though. 

Now that he was no longer covered, Anders looked at his son and realised how beautiful he was. A finely shaped body, the perfect ass he’d inherited from his father; he was so well-proportioned from head to toe and so gracefully built... it was hard to grasp that Anders had had a considerable part in creating that body and shaping the soul that inhabited it. It humbled him as much as it made him feel proud.

He watched Russell’s face, relaxed and soft in sleep. There was still that adorable tiny little pout that he had discovered the first night Russell had slept in his bed, but otherwise, the face he was looking at had little to do with the child he remembered. 

Russell had lost a bit of weight in Norway, and it had sharpened his profile and the contours of his face. He had still been a teenage boy on the day he had left, but he had grown and matured in Norway much faster than the months would have suggested. No wonder, with what he had been put through.

Anders closed his burning eyes.

Russell opened his and frowned. “Dad?” His voice was still deep and husky from sleep. “What’s wrong?”

Saying _Nothing_ would have been a lie. Telling him what really was on his mind would be too much to handle for someone who had just woken up, so he finally settled for: “Just getting emotional.”  
Russell smiled, reached out and took one of Anders’s hands. “It’s okay... I get it. You thought you’d never come back here, right?”  
Anders nodded and closed his fingers around Russell’s.  
“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Russell asked, sounding slightly anxious.  
“No.” Anders finally opened his eyes. “No, you didn’t. I slept like a baby, and until a minute ago, so did you. Maybe we can make this part of the therapy.”  
Russell frowned. “What?”  
“This. The sleeping arrangements.”  
“Dad... really?”

Anders managed a smile. “Russ, you’re not the only one with bad dreams, though last night I was too knocked out by the meds to dream. But... if it makes us both feel better, why don’t we just keep it like this until we’re both over it?”  
Russell swallowed and licked his lips with a flick of his tongue. 

_Look into a mirror_ , Anders thought with a tiny smile.

“Okay...” Russell said after a moment. “If you don’t...”  
“If I would I wouldn’t have said it,” Anders gave back. “And it’s not something I want to keep up forever, you know? At one point we’ll both want our privacy back because I don’t think you want to have your cherry popped with me on the adjacent mattress.”  
“DAD!” Russell shot out of the bed as if stung by a hornet. 

Anders couldn’t help it, his son looked so scandalized and so perplexed, and with his bed-head and the crumpled T-shirt... He burst out laughing.

“God, I’m sorry...” He gasped after a moment when Russell began to relax. “Sorry, I didn’t know where that came from.”  
Russell ran both hands through his hair, the colour of his face slowly returning to normal. “Dad, you’re an ass sometimes, you know that?”  
“Did you need that long to find out?”

Russell rolled his eyes and shook his head, and still shaking it, he opened the door and left.

Anders knew he would have to atone for that later on and make amends, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. After all, Russell was right, and he was an ass. 

To his surprise, Russell came back a moment later however with two cups of coffee. He put one on the nightstand on Anders’s side and settled down again on the other side of the bed. 

“Am I already back in grace?” Anders asked as he picked up his cup after sitting up against the headrest.  
Russell shrugged. He was lying on his belly, the cup in front of him on the mattress. “I think... No, I... Dad...” He looked up. “You’re still an ass, but you know what?” His face was pale now, and his eyes reddened. “I was afraid I’d lost you... I thought I’d lose you up there and that I would be forced to watch you die...”

Anders would have to get used to the brick in his throat being back, for a time at least. He quickly put his cup down again, and Russell sat up, put his own cup on the nightstand too and sank into Anders’s embrace.

“At first I thought I’d lose you and then I was afraid they’d broken you,” he whispered into Anders’s shoulder. “I was afraid that even if we got you back alive, I’d never get my father back, you know?” 

Russell looked up again with tears on his cheeks. Anders looked into his son’s eyes, and with a sting in his heart he realised that even though only eighteen, Russell had left the last traces of the child he once was behind, lost them irrevocably up on a glacier in the Norwegian Fjells. He had left as a teenage boy, and had come home as a young man. 

“And now I’m suddenly...” Russell shook his head with a helpless shrug.  
“It’s okay,” Anders said and ran a hand through Russell’s hair. “I understand. We both had to keep ourselves together for so long now... just...” He swallowed and blinked away his own tears. “Just let it out, Russ. Let it go. You’re safe. We both are. It’s okay. Let it go.”

Russell did. So did Anders. Now, that they finally didn’t have to keep themselves up and running anymore. Their therapist would later call it their catharsis and explain how necessary these things are, and how important for the healing process. 

For now, it was just a huge relief of all that pressure. 

Anders and Russ stayed in bed long past noon, with Russell equipping them with more coffees. Anders contemplated installing a coffee maker in his bedroom. Russell approved.

Since Anders wasn’t really able to drive and Russell didn’t have a driver’s licence yet they called Christine and Emma to ask them out for a double date and a dinner that evening. 

That night, Russell moved into Anders’s bedroom, to an extent. They both still had nightmares, but just being able to reach out and make sure that the other was there and okay was enough.

* * *

Celebrating Christmas that year almost felt as good as the one in Russell’s first year in Auckland, and Anders enjoyed his family, the house looking like the epitome of Christmas, eating cinnamon cupcakes and best of all, putting up his feet because no one allowed him to do anything. 

Russell was back to enjoying time with his cousins, now plus one baby and minus tickling and tumbling about. And Layla, realising she was dealing with a professional, was completely at ease while Russell handled her. Her mother was taking full advantage of it. 

“You should wear that more often,” Anders remarked as Russell walked over to the sofa Anders was sitting on, with the baby curled up in his arm and a burp rag draped over one shoulder.  
“So hot on becoming a grandpa?” Russell asked with a sweet grin.  
Anders, who still had his mouth open to continue to quip, snapped it shut with a click of teeth.

“I was about to say,” Russell continued calmly, but with a tiny smirk, “That the food is ready. And ask if you’ll come sit outside or if we need to bring you something.”  
“Seeing as I’m not a complete invalid,” Anders said and sat up, “I settle for company.”

Russell grinned and gave Anders a hand up. 

There was laughter around the table, the kids playing and running in through one door, out through the other. He had the sun on his face and was eating whitebait fritters and Dawn had made her amazing lamb roast again. There was a Pavlova for desert. 

It seemed as if the Johnsons had all decided to celebrate the most Kiwi Christmas they could possibly have. Anders wasn’t complaining. He was probably getting soppier than he had expected in his dotage but right now, he was just glad to be home.

* * *

During the afternoon of the 31st, Anders was preparing the dinner he had planned for that night, a quiet evening between friends, when he realised that Russell was just sitting in the living room with a book. 

“Don’t you have a party to get ready for?” He asked as he leaned onto the doorway, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.  
Russell looked up from his book with a shrug. “No. Or... yeah, Danny and Emma wanted to drag me along but... I don’t know. I don’t really feel like partying?”  
Anders narrowed his eyes. “Your choice of course. I would have imagined you want to hang out with your friends as much as possible after having been away from home for so long.”

Russell stared back at the book, but he wasn’t looking at the letters. “I know. I... I don’t know.”  
“Russ, not that I won’t accept your choice...” Anders walked over and sat down as well. “But are you sure you want to spend New Year’s Eve at home with me and Christine, sipping wine and listening to Jazz?”

After a moment, Russell tore his eyes away from the book and looked straight ahead. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
“You’re burrowing,” Anders replied. “The wide world out there turned out to be pretty scary in some ways and now you feel the need to stay in your nest.”  
“Dad, for fuck’s sake, stop taking the piss like that.”  
“I swear I wasn’t taking the piss, Russell,” Anders gave back as he met Russell’s eyes that had darkened in anger. “I was just trying to explain things the way I see them.”

Russell’s facial expression relaxed again and for a moment, they looked at each other in thoughtful silence. 

“Do you want to get rid of me?”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Anders gave back, threw the kitchen towel over his shoulder and got up again. “I have no plans for getting laid tonight, least of all with her. You, on the other hand...”  
“I don’t have anyone either,” Russell snapped back.  
“Keep telling yourself that,” Anders said and headed for the door. “And you know I would never want to just get rid of, no matter if I’m planning to get laid or not. Didn’t do that when you were ten, not going to start now.”

He returned to the kitchen, leaving Russell to figure himself out. Cursing under his breath while struggling to open the glass with the olives, hampered by the lingering pain in his chest as we was, he didn’t hear Russell approach and only realised he had entered the kitchen when he took the glass out of Anders’s hands to open it. 

“Thanks. It’s ridiculous. Too invalid to open a glass.”  
“You’re welcome. See, I was thinking...”  
“I thought I smelled something burning.”  
“Dad, for fuck’s sake. Do you ever stop?”

Anders looked up after having emptied the glass of olives into a colander. “What?”  
“Stupid dad jokes.”  
“You...” Anders said and extended a forefinger at Russell, “...said that I’ll always be your dad and that means...”  
“I get it!” But Russell was grinning now. “There’s a price for everything.”  
“So, what have you been thinking about?” Anders smiled back at him.  
“That I’m too young to spend New Year’s Eve with my dad at home.”  
“Or too old, depending on your point of view.” Anders opened the fridge and took the feta out. “Might I remind you that we had some really smashing New Year’s Eve parties when you were younger?”  
“Dad, I was, like, ten or something.”  
“Which is my point.” Anders unpacked the cheese and placed it onto the cutting board. “So, from my point of view, you’re too old. From yours, you’re too young. It amounts to the same thing, really.”

Russell crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “That I’m going out tonight?”  
Anders pointed at him with the knife. “And hit on that guy like a hammer.”  
Russell’s face turned crimson. “There is no... who are you talking about?”  
“Come on, I wasn’t born yesterday.” Anders started cutting the feta into small cubes. “I saw how you two hugged each other.”

Russell didn’t reply. When Anders looked up again, not only was his face still crimson, his ears were glowing, too. 

“Dad... I don’t even...” Russell ran both hands through his hair. “I told you he had a girlfriend when we met!”  
“I know, but I’ll bet my ass on it that he’s bi.”  
Russell dropped his hands again. “What?”  
“Don’t believe me?”  
“Actually... I... uh... How can you be so sure about that?”  
Anders lifted both eyebrows and rinsed his hands under the tap. “I see I have to give you a few lessons in body language.”

Russell threw up his arms with an exasperated growl. 

Anders ignored that sound and dried his hands. “So. Need a lift?”  
“Dad...”  
“I mean it.”

Their eyes met. 

“I give... Danny a call, see where he’s at.”  
“He driving himself?”  
“Hm.” Russell nodded as he pulled his phone out of a pocket. “Even got his own car... if you want to call it that.”

Anders poured himself another glass of wine. He always adhered to the principle that if the recipe says _Add Wine_ don’t ask where and how much. 

Russell had finished dialling and held the phone to his ear. “Hey... uh... Emma? Why are you answering...” He paused, and his face fell. “Oh... okay. Never mind.” Another pause. “Yes, I... actually... Yes.”

Even at this distance, Anders could hear Emma yell at someone to pull over. Russell held the phone away from his ear with a wince. 

“No, listen... you really don’t have to...” Then he closed his eyes and a strained grin appeared on his face. “Hey Danny, sorry if... No, I... okay. Okay!” He laughed; it sounded a little embarrassed, but he laughed. “Okay! So you say in... what? Fifteen? Great. Yes... Yes... No, I won’t! You go easy on that rustbucket of yours, okay? See you in fifteen.”

Anders smiled broadly at his son who stuffed put the phone down onto the table with a sheepish smile and glowing ears. 

“They were already halfway there, but... you know. They come and pick me up.”  
“Got some great friends there, Russ.” He took another sip of wine. “Need any help?”  
“Thanks Dad, I think I’ll manage to take a shower and change.”  
“Really?”

Russell rolled his eyes and dashed up the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Anders opened to find Emma grin at him. “He ready yet?”  
Behind her and looking like her bodyguard was Danny, dressed in black and this time also wearing a long, black leather coat.  
“Not quite. Want to come in?”

The two of them were just about to do so when Russell came running down the stairs. He was wearing a pair of black jeans that were so tight they looked painted on, and a black T-shirt that looked the same, accompanied by a blue plaid shirt that really brought out the colour of his eyes. 

Even if Danny hadn’t been into him before, Anders thought, he would be now, if the way he looked at Russell was any indication. But before Russell could pick up on that, Danny had brought his face back under control.

By sheer chance, Anders looked at Emma who so happened to look back at him. Their eyes met, and a conversation that would have filled several pages in a book passed between them in a heartbeat. She shook her head, then slipped her arm through Russell’s, and the other through Danny’s. Skipping along between them she dragged both towards the car and quickly slid into the backseat, so Russell had to take the passenger seat next to Danny.

Anders smiled and waved, then he headed back inside, rubbing his hands as he went back to his moussaka.


	32. Chapter 32

Anders had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang, and whistling under his breath he went and opened it after quickly adjusting his tie one last time. 

“Good evening.”   
Christine smiled back. She was wearing an LBD and a pearl necklace with matching earrings. “Good evening.”  
“Looking more beautiful than ever.”  
“Flatterer.”  
“Just speaking the plain truth.”

After depositing her bag at the bottom of the stairs Christine put her handbag down on one of the chair that wasn’t in use and let her eyes roam over the table. 

“Looks very nice,” she said with a smile and sat down. “And it smells fantastic in here.”  
“I think it turned out fantastic too, if I may say so,” Anders replied. “Wine?”  
“Please.”

They had wine leaves and olives as entrée and the main course was one of Anders’s famous moussakas. During the dinner they worked through two bottles of wine, and Anders served coffee with the dessert, Greek yoghurt with honeyed almonds. And as usual, they never ran out of conversation topics. 

Equipped with another bottle of wine and their glasses they relocated into the living room after dinner. And now Anders felt he had reached a dead end.

Ever since he had come home and embraced Christine for the first time, Anders had felt the weight of his past wearing him down in her presence like never before. He just wanted to give in to the urge to confine in her, but he still hesitated for fear of losing her. Because honestly, who was going to believe that crap?

“Anders?”  
“Hmh?”  
Christine put her glass down onto the table and leaned a little forward. “You look like a man with something very heavy on his mind.”  
Anders stared into his glass.  
“Want to talk about it?”  
“Not really, now.” He swirled the wine around in his glass with a sigh. “But I think I have to.”  
She didn’t reply and leaned back again, if only a little.

There was no way this would ever end well. And still... he simply couldn’t hold on to this any longer.

“Chris,” he finally said and forced himself to meet her eyes. “I really... I need to get this off my chest.”  
Christine simply nodded.  
“See it’s... it’s about something that... in my past... from before we met.” He licked his lips and took a gulp of wine.   
She lifted her eyebrows and slightly inclined her head. “Are you sure you want to talk about that now?”

“Yes, and it’s because...” Anders leaned back and rubbed his hand across his chin. “Up until now it didn’t really matter, it was just a secret, and nothing that had any effect on our friendship whatsoever. I swear it didn’t. And I thought... well, you know, a friendship has room for secrets, doesn’t it?”  
Christine nodded, but remained silent.   
“But now... after Norway... there were... things that happened, and they really... they matter, and they fucked everything up, and now there’s this thing like a fucking elephant in the room and I can’t...” He broke off helplessly and stared at his hands.  
“Anders, I understand...”  
“No.” He looked up again. “No, you don’t. This is... this isn’t just... I really don’t want to do this, but I’m afraid it comes up again and... At one point I’ll be forced to lie to you... and that’s the last thing I want.”

“Anders...” Christine reached out and took one of his hands. “I understand, I really do.”  
Anders shook his head. “You couldn’t, possibly. And I’m afraid that you’ll walk out and never come back because I’m a crazy ass, and...”  
“Anders.” She squeezed his hand. “Believe me, I know.”  
He shook his head again. “I need... I’m sorry. But I don’t even know where to start.... but these people, in Norway... they weren’t a crazy sect.”  
“I know.”

Anders felt as if he had walked into a glass door. 

“What?”  
“I know,” Christine replied gently and squeezed his hand again.   
“But...”  
Now it was her turn to heave a sigh. “When Ty and Axl came back... Dawn called me and invited me for a coffee. She said it was to give me an update on your... situation.”

The ground under him began to dissolve. 

“I have to admit...” She met his eyes. “It was a hard thing to swallow. And I swear, if it hadn’t been Dawn, of all people, who clued me in on all that, I’d still be searching for the hidden camera.”

Anders could only shake his head.

“Because you see, Dawn saw this coming. That the secret would turn into a problem now. So she did her best to break it to me. And believe me, I know how hard it must have been for you, just now, to try and drag all that out into the open. And to be honest, I am not sure I would have believed you. And I can’t even say I wouldn’t have been angry.”  
“But since it was Dawn...”  
“Dawn is one of the most rational and most level-headed people that I know.” Christine shrugged with a tiny smile. “And I have no idea how she did it, back then. But I figured if she could, then I can as well. And admittedly... the whole story of what happened in Norway fits much better together like this.”

After a moment, Anders had to get up. He needed air. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know what to think. Right now, he was intellectually challenged with remembering how to breathe. 

“I need to digest that,” he whispered hoarsely and left the room through the terrace door. 

Christine didn’t follow him, and once outside, Anders fell back against the wall and stared upward into the sky. In the middle of Auckland, there were hardly any stars visible. Not like in that cold, lonely cabin on the flank of a Norwegian mountain. He could hear the laughter of people somewhere in the neighbourhood who were having a garden party, and the faint noises of traffic. 

But when he closed his eyes he saw a wall of black volcanic rock and a dead tree, and the warm summer night around him turned into biting cold that made him shiver, the silence only disturbed by the whistling of an ice cold wind. He quickly opened his eyes again and the flashback vanished, leaving only a strange emptiness behind. It felt so surreal, all of a sudden. It had been a nightmare, but a nightmare that had ended well. And while it had left nightmares in its wake, that was really all they were. Dreams. Ugly memories rearing their heads. 

And the knowledge that he was suddenly able to talk about all that with his closest friend felt like a hot shower after a day out in the freezing cold. A pleasant warm tingle and a huge, incredible relief. 

As if she had read his mind, Christine now stepped outside as well with the wine glasses she had refilled. Anders took his, but he was still at a loss as to what to say. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” He finally asked.  
“I wanted you to be ready to bring it up.”  
“Hm.” Anders nodded and drew a deep breath, then exhaled softly.  
Christine stepped closer. “It’s almost midnight. Want to wait out here for the fireworks?”

Anders nodded and took a sip of wine. A few rockets went up here and there, and then the people at the garden party suddenly cheered and yelled Happy New Year. The fireworks began in earnest now, and Christine turned to face him, offering him her glass. And with a smile, Anders lifted his own and brought their glasses together with a soft _clink_. 

“Happy New Year, Anders.”  
“Happy New Year, Chris.”

Christine stepped even closer now and put an arm around Anders’s middle. Anders shifted the glass into the other hand and draped his arm around her shoulder and they watched the fireworks in companionable silence that wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable anymore. 

Once back inside the living room Anders headed for the stereo and put on some of his old, treasured vinyl. The soft notes of slow jazz rose up and flowed through the room like the fragrance of incense.

“Wanna dance?” He asked, and Christine put her glass down with a smile.

Intertwining their fingers and resting their other hands on each other’s hips they danced, slowly and close together, completely comfortable and at ease even in close physical proximity to each other. They exchanged a smile, then Christine rested her head against his shoulder.

“Chris?”  
“Hm?”  
“In... in Norway. I met a woman... not that I really fell for her, but she was really good looking and everything... I was snowed in with her, in a lonely cabin on a mountainside.”  
“And?”  
“And.” Anders looked at her with a wistful smile. “We almost kissed, but before it happened I realised something.”  
She leaned back and tilted her head with a questioning look.

Anders hesitated.

“I finally understood,” he then said in a low voice. “It took me thirteen years, but I finally understood why you did it, on that day at the beach.”  
Christine looked into his eyes, and a sad smile appeared on her face.

“You know,” she said softly after a moment. “Sometimes I wish I would have been able to really fall in love with you back then.”  
Anders chuckled under his breath “I would have annoyed seven kinds of crap out of you in no time whatsoever.”  
Christine chuckled as well now. “I know. And I don’t know where that came from.”  
Anders shrugged. “Not to give myself airs, but you almost lost me. Maybe you just want to be closer.”  
“Maybe, yes.”

She lifted her head and looked up at him, their faces now only inches apart. Christine closed her eyes and Anders lowered his head. Their lips touched. 

Then Anders leaned back, Christine opened her eyes again, and they looked at each other for a second before they both exchanged a crooked, somewhat uncomfortable grin.

“That just felt so fucking wrong,” Christine said.  
“Fuck, it did.” Anders shook his head with a small chuckle. “I think we should forget this ever happened.”  
“Yes, please let’s.” Christine chuckled as well.  
Anders let go of her and stepped back. “More wine?”  
“You bet.”

* * *

Starting the new year in sweatpants, T-shirts and bathrobes they were sitting at the table with a coffee, after a very late breakfast at almost noon, nursing a mild hangover after four bottles of wine. Just as Anders got up to make another one, they heard the engine of a car with respiratory problems out in the driveway. 

Moments later a key turned in the lock and the door opened, then Russell dragged himself in, looking rather the worse for wear. He blinked a few times and tried to smile.

“Happy New Year,” Anders said brightly.   
Russell blinked a few times more. “Stop yelling at me. Hi Dad. Hi Christine.”  
Christine gave him a warm smile. “Hey. You’re alive in there?”  
“Somewhat.” Russell very slowly shook his head.

At that moment someone else stepped through the door.

“Happy New Year!” Anders called out, noting with perverse enjoyment how Russell winced.  
“Uh... Happy New Year, Mr Johnson.” Danny seemed too embarrassed to smile.  
Anders got up, gave his son a critical once-over and looked at Danny again. “The fuck happened to him that didn’t happen to you?”  
Danny shrugged. “I told him not to mix vodka orange, whiskey and beer and... uh... It didn’t work.”  
“Rub it in, will you.” Russell closed his eyes. 

Looking at his son’s face, Anders finally pitied him. “Shower. Then get down here again and get some coffee and paracetamol.”

Russell slunk up the stairs like a beaten dog.

“Coffee?” Anders asked Danny, and Danny closed the door behind him.   
“If it’s not too much trouble.”  
“No trouble at all,” Anders said and headed for the kitchen. 

Danny hung his coat up on the coat rack and got rid of his boots, then slid into a chair like a schoolchild expecting a harangue in the principal’s office. 

“How do you take your coffee, Danny?”  
“Uh... black, thank you,” Danny replied, casting nervous looks at Christine form the corners of his eyes.  
“She doesn’t bite,” Anders said brightly as he put the coffee down in front of him.  
Christine threw her head back and laughed. 

At that, Danny was able to smile, after a fashion. And when Anders came back with two more coffees, he began to unwind a little.

Anders leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “So, did he make a disgrace out of himself?”  
Danny took a sip of coffee. “Uh... He just got really, really drunk.”  
“How drunk is that?”  
Danny chewed his lower lip. “Drunk enough that I dragged him into a bedroom and locked myself in with him because...”  
Anders waited, but was ready to accept if Danny would refuse to shame his friend.   
“Uhm...”  
“You know what? Forget it. I’m not sure I really want to know that, anyway.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and stared into his coffee. “You know... Mr Johnson, I was really worried about him.” He looked up again. “See, he started drinking the hard stuff after someone called him a wuss because he only had beer. I swear he looked ready to tear out that guy’s throat.”  
“Jesus _fucking_ Christ.” Anders shook his head with closed eyes.  
“I’ve never, ever seen him like that before. And I tried to stop him from... from proving he can take it, I really did.”  
“I don’t need to guess that it didn’t work.”  
Danny shrugged with an unhappy frown. “And then... Of course he was... he was really plastered, and pissed off, and then the guy’s friend began to take the piss about his haircut, and he got even more angry and yelled at them that he didn’t give shit about his hair...” Danny ran a hand through his own, deep and utter confusion in his eyes. “And he wanted to prove that... he wanted to go upstairs into the bathroom, find the clippers and shave his head.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Anders dragged a hand down his face. “For fucking fuck’s sake.”  
“And that was when I locked myself in with him. He passed out soon after but at least he didn’t... uh...”  
“He didn’t end up with piss or spew all over him, at least,” Anders said with a sigh. “For fuck’s sake!”   
Danny flinched at the outburst.  
“Fuck!” Anders ran both hands through his hair.

“Mr Johnson...” Danny shook his head. “I really... please don’t be angry with him! I mean, nothing really happened and...”  
“I am not angry with him,” Anders interrupted him. “Danny, how much did he tell you about what happened in Norway?”  
“Not much. Why?”  
“Because what these fuckers said to him last night are things that can trigger him now.”

“Oh shit,” Danny said after a moment.  
“Yes.” Anders closed his hands around his cup. “Shit indeed.”  
Danny stared at the table and shook his head.  
“Danny,” Christine said gently.  
He looked up with a very guilty expression.  
“Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “You couldn’t have known. And you really were a friend to him in preventing him from doing something he would really have regretted.” 

Danny didn’t look as if he could draw much comfort from her words.

The next fifteen minutes passed in somewhat uncomfortable silence, and Anders headed for the coffee maker when he heard steps coming down the stairs. When Russell fell into a chair, he could immediately close his hands around a cup of coffee that Anders had made sure was strong enough to defend itself if needed. Not that Russell looked as if he was able to put up much of a fight.

“Russ,” Anders said cautiously after a moment.  
Russell looked up with bloodshot eyes.  
“How much do you remember from last night?”  
He lowered his eyes again, clearly burning with shame, and his voice was meek and a little rough. “Too much.”

“Hey.” Anders reached out and closed a hand around one of Russell’s forearms. “Not gonna blame you. I mean, okay, you should have been cleverer than letting them provoke you to drink like that. But I also know what that did to you, and why.”  
Russell shrugged.  
“Come on.” Anders squeezed and let go again. “Nothing really bad happened. Thanks to Danny.”

Russell looked up again at his friend. “Thanks for stopping me from shaving my head,” he whispered.  
“Uh... sure.” Danny couldn’t meet his eyes.

Russell swallowed, and then cast his father an utterly desolate, hopeless look. 

Anders understood. After last night’s disaster, Russell had no hope anymore that Danny would ever see him that way again. And even though Anders hoped that it wouldn’t be the case, he had to admit that it wasn’t very likely. And his pity turned into true compassion. What a way to start the New Year.


	33. Chapter 33

They had to wait for a couple of weeks into the new year for their therapy sessions to start, but in the meantime, Russell and Anders were doing pretty well with sleeping in the same bed and talking a lot about their respective memories and their fears. Their minds slowly began to settle.

Anders was finally completely pain free again. It was very satisfying to throw the leftover pain meds out. 

And all the time, Anders was closely observing his son, not because of flashbacks or other symptoms of post-trauma, but if there were any signs that his love life might make a turn for the better. It was obvious in the way he talked about Danny and Emma that the three of them were still close friends, but that seemed to be all there was. 

On the Friday three weeks into the new year, Russell was getting ready for another party and was now sitting at the table downstairs fiddling with his phone while he was waiting for Danny and Emma to pick him up. He had started on his driver’s license, but while Anders was willing to financially help him out with a little loan to get his first car, he was not going to just buy him one. He had to at least contribute. 

Anders cast occasional looks at Russell while he was cleaning the coffee maker. Russell was still fiddling with his phone, and he didn’t look like someone who was looking forward to a friend’s birthday party. 

“Russ?” He finally asked.  
Russell just gave him his signature shrug. 

Anders rinsed his hands and dried them, then walked over to him and pulled another chair over to sit next to his son. 

“Hey.”  
Russell looked up.  
“You don’t really look as if you’re in the mood for a party.”  
He shrugged again. “It’s kind of... I’m sure that...” A deep breath. “There’s going to be people there that were at the New Year’s Eve party at Patrick’s, and I just... they’re just going to take the piss, and I mean... I’m sure as fuck not doing it again, Dad, but...”  
“But you think they’re going to do their best to ruin the party for you?”  
“Maybe. Maybe not. But the real thing is...”

Russell paused and his phone suddenly was the most interesting item ever. Finally, he heaved an incredibly heavy sigh and looked at his father again.

“Danny was flirting with a few girls at that party. And I kept thinking, you know... you said you’re sure he’s bi, and I tried to... I couldn’t really find out anything, so apparently I really do suck at body language, but it was...” He shrugged again, a helpless shrug of despair. “I fucked it up. I fucked it up so hard... even if he is as gay as I am, and even if he had any kind of interest in me, he’ll never look at me like that again after what happened. And I... I really have a hard time getting over him. And that’s why I don’t really want to go, because I don’t want to watch him flirt or hook up with someone, but of course I can’t tell him that.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad?” Anders tried to sound optimistic. “I mean, you’re not the first guy to make an ass of himself because of booze and you sure as fuck won’t be the last, so...”  
Russell just shrugged again.

Anders had no idea what else to say. He had dealt with a few heartaches of his own, but Russell had it really bad. He was hurting, and Anders didn’t want his son to hurt. But he also didn’t want to interfere with his life so much, and apart from that he couldn’t do anything, anyway. 

“So... I’m not really in the mood, but Emma talked me into it, and she said maybe it’ll be good anyway, so I’ll go... and maybe it will.”

Anders felt the only thing he could do was to pat his shoulder in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Then he got up again and went back to the coffee maker. Not five minutes later a car honked outside, and Russell got up and headed for the door.

“Bye, Dad!”  
“Bye! Try to have fun!”

Anders tried not to think too much about things he couldn’t change, but the memory of Russell’s hopeless eyes stayed with him for the rest of the evening.

* * *

It was just after eleven that night when Anders, who was sitting in the living room watching a movie, heard the door, and he got up to see Russell and Danny enter and get rid of their shoes. 

“Guys?”  
Russell looked up. “The party sucked.”  
“And the beer tasted like crap,” Danny added.  
“And so I thought...” Russell ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, if you don’t mind...”  
“Not at all,” Anders said with a smile. “There’s beer in the fridge. What about Emma? She still at the party?”  
“No.” Russell shoved his hands into his pockets. “She was bored too and getting bitchy, and she said she was PMS-ing and wanted to go home. So we dropped her off.”  
“Poor thing.” Then he looked at Danny. “You staying overnight?”  
“Uhm.”  
“I mean, it’s no bother at all. We got a guest room and I think there’s a pack of toothbrushes somewhere in the bathroom, too. I mean, if you want to have more than one beer, that is?”

Russell and Danny exchanged a look.

“Uh... okay.” A small smile appeared on Danny’s face. “If it’s really okay...”  
“I wouldn’t have offered,” Anders said firmly. “As I said, beer in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Anders went back to his movie, and he could hear Russell and Danny help themselves to a beer, but instead of going upstairs they went outside. 

They were still sitting in the garden when Anders switched off the TV, and now he could hear them talk in low voices, although he didn’t understand what they were saying. He went to bed wishing he could somehow make Danny see what a catch Russell would be, his fuck-up from New Year’s Eve be damned. 

But at least he hadn’t lost him as a friend over that.

* * *

Always the early riser, Anders spent a quiet Saturday morning alone with his newspaper and the coffee maker, occasionally listening for signs of life upstairs. By now it was half past eight and he still hadn’t heard anything. Not that he expected them to be up at this hour, they had still been sitting outside long after midnight, after all. 

His phone announced an incoming text. It was from Emma. Anders frowned at the screen, then had to grin.

But then Anders heard a door, the bathroom door, the toilet flush and another moment later, the bathroom door again. Then someone came trudging down the stairs that wasn’t Russell. 

Upon seeing him sit at the table, Danny, wearing only a black T-shirt and a pair of black boxers, froze and seemed to want to cover his legs.

“Morning,” Anders said brightly. “I guess you’re after some coffee?”  
Danny nodded mutely. 

Still smiling Anders got up and gestured at him to follow, then proceeded to explain how the coffee maker worked and showed him where the cups were. 

After all, there was a real chance he would stay overnight more often in the future, and Anders made a point of tactfully ignoring the hickey on Danny’s collarbone. 

Watching Danny head upstairs again with the two coffees Anders allowed himself another smile that he couldn’t stop from growing wider. In the end, he gave up on his newspaper and just had another coffee, grinning like a Cheshire cat while he looked out of the window. 

He took his phone and texted Emma.

Anders put the phone down again, grin still firmly in place. If he was being perfectly honest, he was the tiniest bit jealous, but in no way did he begrudge his son anything. 

At least one of them was getting properly laid now.

* * *

That evening when Danny said good bye and left again they didn’t even get close to each other’s personal space, but during dinner Russell was definitely on another planet. He prodded the food on his plate with the fork as if he had forgotten how to use one. 

“Russ?”  
No reaction.  
“Russell...”  
No reaction whatsoever.  
Anders raised his voice. “Ground control to Major Tom.”  
Russell looked up. “Uh...?”

Anders smiled broadly. Russell smiled crookedly back, his face taking on an interesting shade of pink. 

“Had a good evening with your... friend?”  
“I... uh... yeah...” Russell looked at his plate. “Uh. Yeah...was nice.”  
“Nice.”  
“Yeah...” He nodded and quickly shovelled some food into his mouth, quite obviously to save himself from more questions. 

Anders waited until he had swallowed. “Not that it’s my business but... are you wearing partner look now?”  
Russell looked up again with a perplexed frown. “The fuck?”  
“Because...” Anders gestured at Russell’s neck. “That hickey looks pretty much the same as the one that Danny has.”

The pink flush turned into crimson. “Dad...”  
“Hey.” Anders smiled and winked.  
Russell swallowed and licked his lips.  
“Good job.”

Russell finally managed to give his father a rather self-conscious smile.

* * *

Anders was just getting ready to head home early the next Friday afternoon when he got a call from Mike. 

_“Hey Anders.”_  
“Mikkel.”  
_“I was... I wanted to ask you if you’re coming to the ceremony.”_  
“What the... what ceremony?”  
_“You know...”_ Mike paused. _“We didn’t really want to involve you in the planning. But we bought a stone with Johan’s and Elizabeth’s names on, and it’s going to be put up in a bit.”_

Anders sat down again and looked straight ahead. 

_“I mean, it’s not going to be a ceremony as such, with a priest and fuck... it’s just the guys who put it into place and us.”_  
“Us?”  
_“The family.”_  
“Why the fuck did you guys get so sentimental all of a sudden?”  
_“I don’t think being sentimental has anything to do with it. It felt like the right thing to do after what happened. And it’s not as if anyone of us is going to burst into tears, put down flowers and regret their life choices. It’s just... He doesn’t deserve any pity or whatever. But I think we can at least give them a gravestone if we can’t give either of them a proper grave.”_

Anders thought about it for a while. No, there was no grief, there was no regret, no painful farewell. But Mike was right, the last basic human dignity of a grave was denied to them, and that was at least something even he was willing to do something about, as much as that was possible anyway in this case.

“Okay, when is it?”  
_“They’re going to be there at three. So around then.”_  
“Okay. See you then.”

He headed home and since Russell was willing to go as well, they both arrived at the cemetery shortly after the stone had been set up. It was black with only their names engraved on it.

  
Elizabeth Johnson  
Johan Johnson  


There were no flowers, no speeches; not a single word was spoken after the Johnsons were left alone to look at their parents’ empty grave. Or son’s, in Olaf’s case. 

No one was in the mood for any kind of get-together either, so they left again one by one, without words, just heading back to their cars and going home.

Anders and Russell were the last to leave. 

“I need to ask you something.” Anders was still looking at the stone.  
“Dad?”  
“I was wondering back then, and I still don’t understand why you did it.” He finally looked up and at his son. “Why did you call him grandpa?”

Russell licked his lips and stared thoughtfully ahead for a very long moment. 

“It wasn’t just because he asked, you know.” He paused. “I still hate his guts, and I still hated him back then on that mountain. But what he did... I mean...”  
Anders waited for Russell to sort through his thoughts.

“I mean, he didn’t treat me like he treated you,” Russell finally went on. “He didn’t look really grandfatherly at me, but he kept his thoughts and his fists to himself. And to be honest, I think Axl would have broken several of his bones if he had so much as touched me.”  
Anders snorted softly under his breath.

“But he definitely would never have expected that I would lose my shit like that when meeting him for the first time. I swear, I was ready to kill him. I don’t think I’d have succeeded, but Jesus...” Russell ran his hands through his hair and rolled his shoulders. “After that, he kept looking at me as if he was trying to figure me out and had no idea how. And while we were hiking up that mountain, I asked him why he did it. Beat the shit out of you, I mean. And what he said was spare the rod and spoil the child. That he was trying to make a proper man out of you. And that a man couldn’t be happy when he’s being teased for being a pansy because he likes poetry. As excuses go, it was a pretty lame one. I mean... it’s one thing to try and make your son stronger, but quite another to beat the shit out of him at every turn and angle to... to turn him into something he isn’t and will never be.”

Anders looked at the stone again.

“But I think it’s like Axl and Mike said, I mean what they said back in the cabin. That he was finally beginning to realise that what he thought was the right thing to do was the worst choice he could have made. And don’t get me wrong.” Russell’s face darkened. “That’s still no fucking excuse for his brutality. But he suddenly could make a direct comparison, between what he did and how you turned out, and what you did and how I turned out.”  
“I still don’t think he deserved that.”

“Maybe not.” Russell said slowly and crossed his arms. “But he was beginning to realise just how much he fucked it up, because... because he watched me. I could see it. Just before he cut you and Mike, he looked at me. And there was.... I can’t quite describe the look in his eyes, but there was regret. And I think it was also a shred of jealousy, because he knew fucking well that none of his sons would ever have acted watching him die like I did when I thought you... were about to get killed.” 

He shuddered. 

“He knew no one would mourn him when he was gone, and no one would miss him, and that’s a hard thing to realise. He deserved it, don’t get me wrong. He deserved every second. But what he did, in his final moments, was that he regretted what he did, and that he wished his sons would look at him the way I look at you. And that would never happen. That he saw what was between us, you and me I mean. It was that regret, Dad, and that he did the only thing he could do for his sons. Seeing that you’d been ready to sacrifice yourself for your son showed him what it means, to be father and son. What it can be. What it could have been. Dying for you instead of letting you die for me was the only atonement left to him, and he did it.”

Russell paused and shrugged, shaking his head.

“He knew it wouldn’t make much of a difference in what you feel about him. What any of us feel. But he wanted you to live, more than he wanted to live himself. He sacrificed his life, Dad. And if he had years left or only months... he still sacrificed his life. And that, at least, I could acknowledge. That he finally admitted how much he fucked it up and wished he hadn’t. He knew no one would mourn him, but at least... I could acknowledge his sacrifice, and wanted to let him know that even if no one would ever mourn him, no one was going to dance on his grave either.”

“I still can’t forgive him, you know?”  
“Of course you can’t. And he doesn’t deserve it.” Russell stared at the stone. “But you’re alive because he’s dead. And that’s why I did it. And apart from that...” He shrugged. “I didn’t only do it for him, you know? I also did it for me.”  
“I’m not sure I get it.”  
“I wanted to be less of a heartless asshole than he was. He would only have sneered at that, if someone else had said it.”  
“But you’re a better man than that,” Anders asked softly.  
“Not that that’s a very hard thing to do.”

They both looked up again and their eyes met. And after a moment, they both found they could smile at each other. They turned away from the gravestone and headed back to the car park without looking back.

“You know,” Anders said before they reached the gates. “Now that we’re busy fixing old issues...”  
Russell frowned. “Dad, we don’t have any old issues.”  
“Maybe you don’t have any.” Anders shrugged. “But I do. And I... you see, back after the accident, I was at your bed in the hospital and you were in a coma, and despite the doctors having said you’d make it, there was still a risk and... God... you looked so small and helpless, and I was so scared...” He ran both hands through his hair. “And I made you a promise back then, and I didn’t keep it.”

“Oh come on, Dad. I was six, and I wasn’t even conscious.”  
“That’s not the issue.” Anders shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if you were conscious or not. I was, and I made you a promise that I didn’t keep. You’ve been talking about Big Ben, and that you wanted to see him, and when I was holding your hand and afraid you’d die on me I begged you to hold on and fight.... telling you that there were still so many books to read and places to see... and I promised you to take you to see Big Ben. And I never did.”

“Dad...” Russell blinked away his tears. “Dad, seriously... it’s okay.”  
“No.” Anders closed his eyes for a moment. “No, it’s not. Because, you see... up on that mountain, when I was sitting there hurting because I would never see you again I suddenly remembered. And... I swear... Russell, the thought that I made you a promise and didn’t keep it hurt me more than anything else. And so... I booked two tickets to London. Just a five day trip.”

“Dad... But that was what? Thirteen years ago? It really doesn’t matter to me.”  
Anders met his son’s eyes. “You know I never broke a promise to you, Russell. I swore I never would. And I know it was thirteen years ago, and I believe you when you say it doesn’t matter to you. But it matters to me.”

Russell looked at his father, looked into his eyes, and finally he shook his head with a small smile.

“Okay,” he finally said. “London it is.”

Anders draped an arm around Russell’s shoulder, Russell slung an arm around his father’s chest, and together, they walked towards the car.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Irishman can be pictured as an older version of James Nesbitt.
> 
> And I swear I didn’t make that name up. I used the [Scottish Name Generator](http://enneadgames.com/generators/name-generators/scottish-name-generator/) and it came up with this and then everything got out of hand from there.

“Right.” Russell shoved his hands into his pockets. “There he finally is. Big Ben.”  
“Thirteen years late, but here we are.” Anders crossed his arms and looked up. “So, what do you think?”  
Russell shrugged and emitted a rather unassertive huffing sound.  
“What can I say... to a six year old it would have looked more spectacular.”

Anders and Russell leaned their heads back and looked up. On cue, Big Ben let his signature chime sound out over London. 

Then they looked at each other for a moment and back at Big Ben again.

“Feel better now?” Russell asked.  
“You can’t imagine,” Anders gave back with a wistful smile. “It’s a relief.”  
Russell stepped closer and nudged his father in the ribs. “Hey, better late than never, huh?”  
“Definitely. Now we gotta find something to do during the remaining four days. And I have to admit this city isn’t very...”  
“Very?”

“Attractive.” Anders rolled his shoulders. “I mean, did you look around? Okay, so Big Ben is just a clock tower, but he still looks like a phallus. And the name is like... I mean they could as well have named him Big Dick.”  
“Dad. It’s a fucking clock tower.”  
“Maybe. Whatever. Still a phallus. And did you see that thing... that glass gherkin? If that doesn’t look like a phallus then I don’t know what does.”  
“Dad...”  
“And don’t get me started on those... Did you see those guys?” Anders turned to face his son. “Those palace guards with their ridiculous hats? They look like dicks!”  
“Dad, for fuck’s sake...”  
“And those policemen? Their helmets? Those things look like a bell end!”  
“Christ...”  
“A whole city full of dicks!”  
“DAD!”

Behind them, someone erupted in pealing laughter. Both Anders and Russell spun around to see a woman with ginger curls doubled over gasping for breath. And when she straightened up again, they looked into the greenest eyes this side of Dublin. 

After a second or two, Anders adjusted his tie with a twitch of his head.

“Christ, Dad, you did it again!”  
“I was just pointing out the truth!”

“A city full of dicks,” the woman said with a soft lilt to her voice. “Truer words have rarely been spoken.” Her consonants were slightly clipped and she rolled her R rather hard. “So,” she went on and walked over. “Since you’re not here for the local penis exhibition, what brings you here? I can tell you’re not from around, but where are you from? If you don't mind me asking.”  
“New Zealand,” Anders replied.  
“We’re Kiwis!” Russell grinned at her.  
“Kiwis!” She grinned. “I’ve never met real Kiwis before!”  
“Are there non-real Kiwis?” Anders asked.  
“Ach, you know. Wee fuzzy brown fruits.”  
“Oh, those.” Russell grinned at her. “They taste great, though!”  
“Yes, but they make for very poor conversation,” she replied and held out her hand to Russell. “I’m Seona. And I’m actually not from around either. I’m from Edinburgh.”  
“I thought it was a Scottish accent,” Russell replied. “But I wasn’t sure. I’m Russell.”  
“Anders,” Anders said and took the offered hand.

“So, and what brings you to Dick City? You on holiday?”  
“Yes.” Russell gestured towards Big Ben. “I always wanted to see Big Ben as a kid, and now we finally managed.”  
“And what are your plans now?”  
Anders shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Seona crossed her arms and looked back and forth between the two of them. Up close, it was clear that she was about Anders’s age; there were a few silver highlights in her hair which contrasted brightly with the rest of the ginger curls. And she had beautiful smile wrinkles. 

“Say,” she began. “Seeing as I’ve never met real Kiwis before and you could use a guide to avoid any more run-ins with male genitals, how about we go out tonight? I mean...” She shrugged. “I’m technically working, but, eh. I can do that with a wee hangover.”

Russell and Anders exchanged a glance. 

“You know,” Anders rolled his shoulders. “Sounds like a really good idea.”  
Russell was still grinning. “Yep. We’re game.”  
“Great! Where are you staying? I can pick you up. Do you want to have dinner first or are you fine with pub grub?”  
Anders looked questioningly at his son.  
Russell brushed his hairs back. They were beginning to fall into his face. “Pub grub,” he said. “Whatever that is.”  
“Great!” Seona rubbed her hands. “Pick you up at six!” 

Then she produced her phone and saved the address of their hotel. 

“Oh, I gotta catch that bus!” She patted Russell’s arm as she shouldered her bag. “See you later!”

Russell and Anders watched her board the bus and the bus disappear.

“What... just... happened?” Russell asked after a moment.  
“Seems like we got us a tourist guide.”  
“Hm.” Russell shoved his hands back into his pockets. “She has pretty eyes. Did you see her eyes?”  
“Yeah, I did,” Anders replied absentmindedly. “But she’s not my type.”  
Russell lifted both eyebrows but refrained from any further comments.

* * *

As promised, Seona was at the hotel at six, and they made their way through the streets of London first by bus, then by subway and then on foot until they reached a pub that looked as if time had forgotten about it 150 years ago. A large Shamrock was pictured on the bar sign. It was warm inside and there were a lot of patrons. 

“It’s my favourite place when I’m in London. I hate London, but you know, work...” Seona dragged them through the crowd to a table in a corner. “This looks cosy.”

They settled down to wait for the momentary rush at the bar to pass.

After mustering her for a while, Anders leaned back and crossed his arms. “So what's your name then? Your surname, I mean. What kind of Mac are you? McDonald? McKenzie?”  
“I'm not a Mac,” she replied with a smile.  
“Please indulge me.”

Seona folded her arms onto the table and squarely met his eyes. “Cockburn.”  
Anders almost choked on his own tongue.  
Russell gave his father a death glare. “Dad, don't you dare!”  
“Oh by all means.” Seona gave Russell a sweet, impish smile. “Let him. See if he can come up with something I haven’t heard yet.”

Anders adjusted his tie and tried to smile.

“It’s a good, proper, Scottish name,” Seona went on, completely unfazed.  
“I’m sure it is,” Anders replied, sounding only slightly strained.  
“Because you see, a burn, you know, is a little streamlet, and a cock...”  
Anders forcefully cleared his throat and Russell kicked his shin under the table.  
“...is a male chicken,” Seona finished with a big, bright smile. “So basically, a little stream shallow enough for a cock. To wade through.” She waited until Anders could breathe again. 

“So,” she said then. “You Kiwis. Any special Kiwi names?”  
“No, rather boring,” Russell said. “Johnson.”  
“Johnson?”  
“Johnson,” Anders confirmed.

Seona looked back and forth between the two. “Ye know that Johnson is an American slang word for dick, right?”  
Anders felt the unfamiliar sensation of a heated face. “I knew that.”

“Oh well.” Seona got up, smile still firmly in place. “Can I get you two dicks a drink?”

Russell looked at his father, who was adjusting his tie again with a mildly strained smile, and shook his head before looking up at Seona again. “Yes please.”

They watched her head for the bar.

“What just happened?” This time it was Anders asking that.  
“I don’t know.” Russell looked over his shoulder and back at his father. “But that’s the first time ever I saw someone who has a gab to match yours.”  
“She’s still not my type,” Anders said firmly. He wasn’t looking at Russell, however, but into the direction Seona had vanished.  
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Dad.”  
“Seriously?” Anders leaned forward. “Forget it.”

Russell raised both eyebrows. Anders began to fiddle with a beer mat.

Shortly afterwards, Seona came back with three pints.

Russell took one of the glasses. “So, what is this?”  
“Ale.”  
“And what kind of ale?”  
Seona looked at him with a smug, little smile. “Hancock.”

Anders’s glass froze in the air, halfway up to his mouth. Seona lifted hers, and he remembered he was about to drink. Russell rolled his eyes heavenwards. 

They ordered some food, and as the waitress took away their plates a few men started clearing a small space by pushing tables to the wall and stacking chairs. Someone came with a microphone and a loudspeaker. 

“Oh!” Seona clapped her hands once. “It’s open mic night!”  
“It’s what?” Russell was still looking at the little impromptu stage.  
“Open microphone. Means anyone who wants to perform, sing, or recite a poem, or tell jokes, can go there, take the mic and go for it.”  
“I see,” Russell replied and stared wistfully at a few younger men who were unpacking instruments.

They weren’t actually that bad, and there was a young woman singing an Irish ballad a cappella, and an elderly gentleman reciting a Gaelic poem. The whole thing was ethnic as fuck.

Russell kept staring at the stage and the musicians with sad eyes. 

“Hey!” Some of them called. “Wanna join?”  
Russell shrugged. “I don’t have a guitar!”  
“Wanna borrow mine?”  
An incredulous smile spread on Russell’s face. “Seriously?”  
The young man waved him over.

Grinning like an idiot, Russell shot out of his chair and joined the musicians. 

“Now I’m excited,” Seona said and wiggled a bit in her chair. “Is he good?”  
Anders took a sip of his pint. “He’s been blessed by the god of music and poetry.”

He expected her to laugh at that, but she didn’t even snort. In fact, she just turned her chair around to better look at the stage and the microphone with an eager expression. 

Russell settled down in the chair with a smile.

“Hi,” he said into the microphone. “Name’s Russell. I’m from New Zealand, in case you wonder why I talk so funny.”

That earned him a round of good natured chuckles. 

“Right, uh... I have to admit I don’t really know any Irish folk ballads, so you have to settle for something a bit less traditional.”  
“Stop gabbling and get going, laddie!” That was the elderly gentleman who had recited the poem.  
Russell grinned and struck a few chords. 

Then he closed his eyes, brought his lips closer to the microphone and sang. It was Annie’s Song, and the audience fell very silent after the first few words. 

There was a moment of silence after he had ended before the applause started. Some people were whistling and cheering, and Russell’s cheeks glowed. 

Anders cast a look at Seona, but her attention was glued to the little stage; she was watching Russell with soft eyes and slightly parted lips. 

“Marry me!” A girl in the crowd yelled.  
“Uh, sorry,” Russell said into the microphone with a self-conscious, little smile. “Barking up the wrong tree.”  
“Christ, ye just broke half the hearts in this place, laddie!” The elderly Irishman crossed his arms.  
“I’ll still marry you!”  
Russell grinned. “Sorry, I have a boyfriend back home.”  
The Irishman shook his head. “There goes the other half.”

It almost sounded like a rehearsed act, but the whole pub erupted into laughter. 

“Come on!” The Irishman gestured at Russell. “Give us another!”  
“Sure.” Russell cleared his throat and picked another chord, and when he looked up, he looked straight at his father.

“Okay, this one’s for you,” he said.  
Anders’s heart began to race, and he could see Seona look at him.  
“Because... well, I guess you know what I want to say. It’s not only about you and me, right? It’s about you and him as well. He never taught you, and you had to figure it out but... I could never have wished for a better father.”

Anders didn’t even try to hide his feelings and shamelessly wiped his tears away. He felt all eyes on him, but he had only eyes for his son.

Russell closed his eyes and leaned towards the microphone. He played Cat Stevens. Father and Son.

And as usual, his eyes were closed, but he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, every emotion clearly on his face. Occasionally he would open his eyes and look at his father again. And Anders felt the same hot tightness in his chest he had felt back then, that day little Russell has asked him if he could call him Dad. 

This time the applause was even louder, and Russell got up from the chair to hand the guitar back. Seona reached across the table and Anders looked up as she took his hand. She had tears in her eyes too. For a moment it looked as if she had fallen in love with his son.

“You have to be the proudest Dad in the world, Anders.”  
“He did it again.” Anders shook his head with a helpless smile and wiped his eyes. “I don’t know how he does it. But yeah, I am. I fucking am.”

She squeezed his hand and let go again. Russell had reached the table again and Anders got up. The whole pub was applauding again as the two embraced.

“Oh great God,” Seona said softly as the two sat down again. “You know how to break hearts, you know that?”

Russell and Anders exchanged a grin.

“We’ve heard that one before,” Anders said.  
“We have that effect on people,” Russell added.  
Seona shook her head. “Your mum sure is the luckiest woman ever.”

This time, they didn’t grin as they looked at each other.

“Oh fuck,” he said after a moment. “Now I got into hot water, didn’t I? I’m so sorry...”  
“It’s okay,” Russell replied. “She died when I was five.”  
“Still...” She looked at Anders. “I’m so sorry.”  
Anders shrugged. “She was pregnant when we broke up and I never knew until I was contacted by CA because she had died. But...” He draped an arm around Russell’s shoulder. “We managed.”  
“Oh, aye. I’d say you two turned out just fine.” Then she got up again. “Another drink for my two favourite Kiwi dicks?”  
“Please,” Russell replied enthusiastically.  
Anders could only nod.

“Dad,” Russell muttered as she had left.  
“Hm?”  
“Can you please stop staring at her as if someone hit you with a sack full of hammers?”  
Anders blinked rapidly a few times and straightened up, then adjusted his tie. “The fuck are you talking about?”  
“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Russell shook his head. “If there was a cupid sitting up there on that beam you’d look like a porcupine.”  
“Fuck off,” Anders hissed.  
“Good that she’s not your type.”  
“Absolutely. Because she’s not.”  
“I wouldn’t know where to look anymore if you were to start hitting on her.”  
“Good thing that I won’t, then.”  
“You could book me into a separate room, you know.”  
“Shut the bloody fuck up.”

Seona came back with three more pints and sat down again. “Any plans for tomorrow?”  
“Yes,” Anders said.  
“Oh.” She blinked twice.  
“We do?”  
“Yes.” Anders looked at his son. “Let her take us into another pub.”

Seona threw her head back and laughed, her ginger curls bobbing around her face. 

Russell watched his father stare at her, facepalmed, and buried his nose in his drink.

* * *

At first they had wondered how to pass the time until their flight back home, and then the days had flown like hours. And now they were standing on the platform looking at the train pulling in that would bring them to Heathrow. 

“Okay then.” Seona slipped her hands into the pocket of her coat. “I think that were the nicest four days in London I ever had.”  
“Same goes for me,” Anders gave back.  
Seona chuckled and shook her head. “You said you’ve never been here before?”  
“I haven’t. That's why.”  
“Idiot.”  
“Pleasure. Name’s Anders.”

After a second, they both had to laugh.

Russell, who was throwing their suitcases into the train, looked at them over his shoulder while shaking his head.

“So.” Her smile vanished and Seona bit her lips and cleared her throat. “It’s a long way home, huh?”  
“Fuck yes.” Anders smoothed his hair back. “Thirty-plus hours.”  
“Just on the other side of the planet.”  
“Yes. Cosmically speaking, still practically around the corner though.”

They exchanged a smile that looked more than a little forced.

“Okay, Dad...” Russell had reached them. “I’m afraid this it...” He gave Seona a sad smile.  
“Oh come here, lad,” she said and opened her arms. She and Russell hugged firmly and warmly and when she stepped back, ran a hand down his arm. “Take care of your Dad, will ye?”  
“That’s a hard thing you’re asking.”  
“Hey!”  
“Bye.” Russell winked and headed for the train, hopping up the stairs.

Now Seona and Anders looked at each other for a moment before they embraced. And quite obviously, they were both reluctant to let go. When they finally did, Seona hesitated for a moment, their face close to each other and their eyes closed. Then she quickly stepped back. 

“Well.” She smiled brightly, then began to rummage around in her handbag. She found a pen but no paper, so in the end she took a £5 note and scribbled her number on to it. “Give me a call when you made it, will you? Just to let me know you’re home safe. Okay?”  
“Okay,” Anders replied and closed his fingers around the note she handed him. “Will do.”  
“And if you're ever in the area again, give me a shout. I'll show you Edinburgh. It's much nicer than this place, swarming with dicks as it is.” She winked.  
“Promised.”

Another moment of silence.

“You need to get on the bloody train,” Seona said.  
“I do.” Anders turned away, but looked back again just before he stepped into the train.

Seona waved and spun around as the doors closed. She had vanished in the crowd when the train slowly pulled out.

Anders fell into the seat opposite Russell, the fiver clutched in his hand. He stared out of the window.

“Dad?” Russell asked softly.  
“Hm?” Anders didn’t look at him, though.  
“She got you real bad, didn’t she?”

Anders didn’t reply, and after a moment he just shrugged. 

“I’m sorry... But the way it looked she...”  
Anders put the note down onto the small table between them. “It doesn’t make a difference, does it? Stupid, bloody hormones. I swear when I’m back home I’m having myself neutered. I’m sick as fuck of this shit.”  
“Dad...”  
“I mean it. So what if she's into me too? We live on opposite ends of the world, for fuck’s sake!”  
“But...”  
“What?” Anders finally met his eyes. “But what? She has her life here, I have mine down there. Nothing is ever going to come out of this. I’ll get over her. I got over shit like this before. It doesn’t matter.”  
“Dad, really...  
“I said, it doesn’t matter,” Anders gave back sharply. “End of story.”

Russell fell back into his seat, and after a moment, picked up one of the free travel magazines that were lying on the table. 

They didn’t speak another word during the train ride, and not during check-in, either. Now they were waiting for the boarding call and finally, Russell couldn’t stand the silence anymore. 

“Dad, I’m sorry.”  
“Not your fault.”  
“No, I mean sorry for... poking a sore spot.”  
“You’re doing it again right now.”  
Russell sighed. “I don’t... I’m sorry.”

At that moment finally got the boarding call and headed for the gate. 

“But you are going to let her know we arrived home, aren’t you? I mean, you’re not just... vanishing?”  
“Of course I will,” Anders replied and put down his bag while they were waiting in the queue. “I’m not that big an ass.” With that he slipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket. Then the other into the other pocket. With a frown, he felt his breast pocket, both inner pockets of the jacket and then all four pockets in his trousers. With a slightly panicked expression he started over again, digging into every pocket until he dropped his arms with a sigh and a curse.

“Dad, please tell me you didn’t...”  
Anders gave his son a desolate look. “I must have left it in the train.”  
“Oh for fuck’s sake...” Russell picked up his backpack. “Dad, I’m so sorry...”  
“Well, that’s it then.” Anders’s face hardened and he took his own bag. “Wasn’t meant to be anyway.”

Russell followed his father with a deep, heavy sigh and a sad shake of his head.


	35. Chapter 35

They didn't talk much about London when they were home again. Anders quickly closed up whenever the topic came up, and so Russell avoided it as much as he could. 

From all the people around him, only Christine knew what had truly transpired during those days. Anders, always a master at hiding his true feelings, was wilfully keeping his family in the dark about it, and he had asked Russell to please do the same. And of course, he did. 

After all, life had to go on.

Even after what happened in Norway, Russell was still set on Scandinavian Studies, but for now, he took a year off and got a job in the business of his uncle Axl.  
Axl went easy on his nephew who wasn’t really cut out to be a builder and would never be, but despite that, Russell was so knackered during the first weeks that he was constantly complaining. 

Until Danny remarked one day that he quite liked the shoulders he was developing. Russell blushed, Danny smiled, Anders grinned into his cup, and Russell never complained again.

Danny was by now a regular in their house, and had more or less settled. He was becoming much more relaxed and comfortable around Anders, and for now, Anders kept any complaints he had about the noise level during some nights to himself.  
Mostly.  
Some mornings however, Russell would stumble across the mop or the vacuum cleaner when leaving his room, and he would spend the rest of the day in utterly embarrassed silence. Anders had told him in no uncertain terms that if he heard anything, Russell had cleaning duty for the following week. 

But Anders's heart softened on the day he discovered by sheer chance, looking up at the right moment when Danny burst out laughing because of something Russell had said, that Danny had a tongue stud. And having had his share of crazy chicks in his younger (and wilder) days, and having experienced particular techniques with tongue piercings, Anders bought himself a pack of earplugs and carried on.

By and large, Anders had little to complain about. His business was excellent, his family was a pleasure and his son didn't get into trouble and had a boyfriend who made him happy, and vice versa. 

But some nights, he couldn't fall asleep, plagued by memories of sparkling green eyes and a mop of red curls with silver highlights. And he didn't get it. He hardly knew her. He knew her name and where she lived, and that she worked freelance for several newspapers – under pseudonyms, of course – which was the reason for her having been in London. 

And that was it.

Sometimes he cursed the fact that he had been stupid and careless enough to lose that fiver with her number on. At other times, he was glad for it because that saved him from wondering and speculating about what-ifs and holding on to something that would and could never be. 

He hardly knew her. And he couldn't get over her. And he didn't get it.

* * *

In the beginning, Russell had tried to somehow fix things for his dad, but he had quickly reached a dead end. 

He had tried Facebook to no avail. He had googled her, but since she wrote under synonyms, he couldn't find her name, and he'd have guessed that a name like hers would stick out. It didn't, and since he didn't even know what papers she worked for it was moot point to find her like that. Not that he didn't try. 

In the end, he became desperate enough on his father's account that he dug through the phone books of Edinburgh and Stirling – she had mentioned that her mother lived there – and find people with the name of Cockburn. He called every single one of them, but the only two that actually listened to him without just cancelling the call had never heard of a Seona. If that was true or not, and they just didn't want to reveal her to a creepy stranger, he had no way of telling.

He had kept all this under the radar of course. His father would be pretty angry if not outright furious if he would ever find out about this. He hadn't even told Danny and Emma about his futile attempts at finding a woman they had met at the other end of the world and who he was pretty sure was the reason for his father's occasionally very depressed moods.

At one point, he had to admit defeat. Neither social media nor the desperate phone calls had produced any result, and Russell deleted the search history on his laptop in angry frustration.

He needed to let go and look ahead. 

Norway was well behind him now, and the bad dreams had become a very rare occurrence. He was in no illusion that he would ever completely get rid of those, but most of the time Norway wasn't on his mind anymore. He was letting his hair grow out again, much to Danny's delight, and whenever possible, they still met in the attic of Danny's parents to jam. Danny was trying to move out, but so far he hadn’t found a place that would be able to accommodate his drum kit, not to speak of flatmates who would be willing to put up with it.

Sometimes, Russell still couldn't believe his luck. And simultaneously, he couldn't believe his father's misfortune. He still desperately wanted to fix it but he didn't know how. He didn't know why, but for some reason he was absolutely sure that she felt the same as his father. But he didn't do anything about it anymore. It was all in vain. It didn't hurt him any less, though.

* * *

The doorbell rang, and Anders put his Kindle down and got up to answer the door. Russell was sitting at the piano and played a few classical pieces for practise.

It was Danny, and he wasn’t in a good mood. “Hi. Is Russell home?”  
Anders nodded and turned around. “Russ? It’s Danny!”

Russell drew one finger across the keys and hit the highest one with a cheerful pling. Then he got up with a smile that quickly died when he saw Danny’s facial expression.

“Danny? The fuck is wrong with you?”  
Danny pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. “Had a really bad crunch with my folks,” he finally said.

Anders headed into the kitchen and started the coffee maker. He kept casting worried looks at Danny and his son.

“Really it’s like... It’s not as if I told him yesterday that I don’t want his bloody business!” Danny ran both hands through his hair. “I have no fucking clue why he thought I’d suddenly change my mind about that! First time I told him I don’t want to be a plumber I was twelve!”  
“Danny...” Russell took one of his hands. “So what...”  
“I told him I made my decision and that it’s final,” Danny went on. “Mum was happy enough, I mean, it’s a proper job, that’s what she called it, but Dad got so angry he started yelling at me.”  
“Shit.” Russell bit his lower lip.

“And it all started because...” Danny broke off and fell into a chair. “Because I didn’t want...” He stared at his feet and shook his head.  
Russell sat down beside him. “Because what?”  
“Because...” Danny looked up again. “Because I told them about us. I mean... it’s ridiculous. I told them I’m bi years ago, but so far I only had girlfriends and I thought... turns out they thought I just couldn’t make up my mind and since I didn’t bring any boyfriends home they just... assumed I didn’t know what I was talking about, I guess.”

“Oh Danny...” Russell swallowed hard. “Hey, you could’ve waited with that...”  
Danny met his eyes. “Like fuck I did. Do you know why I never had a boyfriend yet? Because the boys I hooked up with got pissed off by the way I tried to keep them a secret. Because I was fucking scared of what my folks would say.”  
“Jesus...” Russell smoothed his hair back.

Anders had reached the table again, carrying three cups. He wordlessly offered one to Danny who took his with a nod and clutched it between his hands. After a moment, he looked up at Anders.

“But I didn’t... I don’t want Russ to be my dirty little secret. He deserves better. So I told them.”  
“And they were not happy.”  
Danny huffed out a mirthless chuckle. “Dad started to get angry and told me to make up my mind if I was gay or not, and then he yelled that I couldn’t properly run a business when I don’t even know whom I want to fuck! I swear they are so fucking old-fashioned and like, he has his head so far up his ass he sees daylight again and... and fuck! As if anyone would give a shit about whom I go to bed with!”

Anders and Russell exchanged a baffled and somewhat dismayed look. 

“And then I was pissed off too and I told them I don’t want his fucking business anyway and...” He shrugged. “One thing led to another and now I...”  
“He threw you out?” Russell asked hesitantly.  
“Nah.” Danny managed a crooked smile. “I left before I punched his nose. But I...” Then he looked at Anders again. “Can I crash here for a few days? Only until the dust has settled, like. Then I’ll try and talk to him again.”  
“Absolutely.” Anders patted his shoulder. “You’re always welcome.”  
“Thank you.” The smile softened a little. 

“But... do you think he’ll come around?” Russell asked.  
“Possibly,” Danny replied with a shrug. “And if he doesn’t I’ll move out anyway and hope Mum can keep him from throwing my baby out.”  
“He wouldn’t!”  
“Nah, he probably won’t.” Danny took a sip of his coffee. “Still prefer if I could take her with me, though.”

Noticing Anders confused expression, Russell smiled up at him. “His drum kit.”  
Anders had to chuckle. “A girl, is it?”  
Danny smiled wistfully. “Love of my life, really. I got her for my fourteenth birthday and haven’t looked back.”

Simultaneously, Russell and Danny leaned in towards each other and Russell nudged Danny’s temple with his forehead. 

“But you said you’re starting,” Russell said after a moment. “So you sorted everything?”  
Danny straightened up again. “I did. I am not going to be a plumber and dig through other people’s shit for the rest of my life.”

“And what will you be doing if I may ask?” Anders took a sip of his coffee.  
“Paramedic,” Danny replied, not without pride.  
“Wow. I have to admit I didn’t expect that.”  
Russell looked up at his father. “And what did you expect?”  
“Honestly? I have no idea.” Anders grinned. “I haven’t really given it much thought, you know? I mean, you’re eighteen and a bit and he’s what...” He gave Danny a questioning look.  
“I’ll be twenty in a couple of weeks.”  
“See.” Anders put his cup down and crossed his arms. “No need to wreck my brain about the Good Provider Theory.”  
“Dad!”  
Danny couldn’t suppress a snort.

“Anyway,” Anders went on firmly and gave Danny a nod. “Good job.”  
“Thanks, Mr Johnson.”  
“Danny, how often do I have to tell you to call me Anders?”  
Danny grinned and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Uh...”  
“Once more, with feeling,” Anders said again. “Good job.”  
Danny nodded with a small, somewhat self-conscious smile. “Thanks, Anders.”

“Oh and by the way,” Danny said then. “Speaking of my birthday. My uncle's got this little beach house on Waiheke. And he said I can borrow it for my birthday.”  
“That sounds so great!” Russell replied with a ridiculous grin.  
“The whole weekend!”  
“Sounds even better!”

Anders took his cup and headed outside, sat down at the table on the terrace and looked at the clouds. He sincerely hoped that Danny would be able to sort it with his folks, and not because he didn’t want him around in his house. He was in no doubt either that Russell would stick with him, but the thought of what Danny might be going through at home left a bitter taste in his mouth. True, it didn’t sound too bad, but it still shouldn’t have happened at all.

* * *

Russell had thrown everything he wanted to pack for the weekend on the bed, plus bed sheets and the guitar case. Then he pulled his backpack out from under the bed and picked a few dust bunnies off the velcro bands. His room seemed due for another spring clean. 

Unzipping the smaller front compartment he realised that he had never emptied it after London; there were still a few paper napkins from Upper Crust stuffed into it, together with the travel magazine from the train that he had meant to read during the flight. He had completely forgotten about it. He pulled it out and threw the napkins into the bin next to the desk.

Then his eyes fell onto the picture of a bright sunny summer sky and crystal sea of a Caribbean island again, and he noticed the corner of another piece of paper sticking out from between the pages.

He pulled it out, and his fingers began to tremble. 

It was a five pound note. 

Russell quickly shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, and it burned a hole into that pocket on his way out and during the car ride.

He approached Christine when he and Danny picked up Emma, and while the other two now stowed away Emma's baggage, Russell and Christine eyed the innocent slip of paper between them on the table as if it was a dangerous explosive.

“Russell, you go and have a nice weekend,” Christine finally said. “I'll take over from here.”

* * *

It was Christine who approached Anders on his birthday with an envelope decorated with a ribbon. The family was all gathered again, the kids were watching a movie after having stuffed themselves with cupcakes, and with the atmosphere somewhat calmer now it was time for Anders's present.

“I told you I don't want any presents,” Anders said and eyes the envelope that Christine handed him with suspicion.  
“Like we give a shit,” Mike said with a grin.  
“You'll like this,” Dawn said with a grin of her own and exchanged a look with Christine.  
“I don't trust you two when you look like that,” Anders said slowly.  
“Just open it.” Ty crossed his arms with a grin.  
“Yes,” Axl rubbed his hands. “It's from all of us. We passed a hat.”

Anders finally took the envelope, removed the ribbon and opened it. 

Inside was a plane ticket.

He looked up very slowly. “Are you fucking serious?”  
“Of course we are,” Christine replied.  
“You're not.”  
“We are.”

Anders wasn't smiling. He looked into the envelope again and, after a moment, slammed it onto the kitchen counter. 

“What the fuck is going on in your fucking heads?” He snapped. “Are you out of your fucking minds or just bored out of your skulls? You're not fucking serious!”  
Around him, the grins began to vanish.  
“And what the fuck am I supposed to do when I'm up there? Run around with a cow bell yelling her name?”  
“Whose name?” Axl asked in utter confusion.  
Anders spun around. “She didn't tell you?”  
“She...” Axl shrugged helplessly and looked at Christine. “She said you have been talking about visiting Edinburgh after you were in London.”  
“I swear I didn't mention her.” Christine shot back.  
“So what.” Anders crossed his arms as well. He was bristling with anger. “So what? Fucking what? What the fuck am I supposed to do there?”  
“Holidays?”

Anders turned away and threw up his arms with a snort. 

“Holidays?” He asked her and faced her again. “Holidays? No ulterior motives, of course.”  
“I do have a pretty big ulterior motive,” Christine gave back calmly. “Just take the fucking papers out of that fucking envelope.”

Anders glared at her, but he did so. And when he pulled out the plane ticket, his eyes fell onto the fiver. His face lost all colour. 

“Where...?”  
“I found it, Dad.”  
Anders looked up.  
“It was in my backpack all along,” Russell continued. “It was between the pages of that travel magazine I packed. I'm sorry... I had no idea, honestly!”

“So,” Anders said after a moment, his face dark. “And what do you think will happen now?”  
“You will go to Edinburgh,” Christine replied.  
“Like fuck I do,” he snapped. “What am I supposed to do there? What happens, huh? We stare at each other for half an hour and I spend the next two weeks staring at the walls of a hotel room?”  
“Anders, what do you think?”  
“I just told you what I think! This is ridiculous! I am not going to Edinburgh!”

Christine narrowed her eyes

“I am not going. Period.”

Christine crossed her arms.

“You can say what you want.” Anders crossed his arms as well. “I am not going to Edinburgh.”


	36. Chapter 36

Anders adjusted his tie for what had to be the hundredth time after he had stepped off the plane as he headed for the exit. He still had no idea what exactly he was doing here and how the fuck this was supposed to turn out.

Then he rounded a corner and there she was, that mass of ginger curls making it impossible to mistake her for anyone else. Her face lit up with an incredible smile when she caught sight of him, and Anders adjusted his tie for the hundred and first time. 

Arms crossed, she sauntered towards him and they came to halt directly in front of each other. Anders put his suitcase down.

“Hey,” she said. “Glad you could make it.”  
“Not that I was given much choice,” Anders replied.  
Seona chuckled and shook her head. “Your friend Christine is one of a kind.”  
“That’s indisputable.”

There it was, that uncomfortable, awkward moment Anders had known would come. 

And then she uncrossed her arms and before he knew what was happening they had their arms around each other. His face was buried in her curls and their embrace tightened.

“I know that sounds ridiculous,” he muttered into her hair. “But I missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”  
“Now that’s a relief.” Seona leaned back again with her trademark impish smile. “It would have been fucking awkward if it had only been me.”

Their eyes met, and they simultaneously had to laugh. Anders felt some of the tension leave him. That could definitely have gone worse.

“Come on, Mr Dick.” Seona took his hand and Anders picked up his suitcase again with a shake of his head.

The silence in the car was a little awkward, and Anders still had no idea what he was supposed to do. Sure, Chris had called her and explained the thing with the fiver, and she had apparently been happy enough about the idea of him visiting, but they were practically strangers. Not for the first time he wished he had booked himself into a hotel. A one night stand, a simple hook-up, was one thing, but this was something he couldn’t really get his head around.

She had a small flat on the outskirts of town on the second floor of a four storey house, two rooms, a kitchen and a bath. Anders looked around as he put his suitcase down and tried to find words for her style of interior decoration. He settled for Creative. He had no other word to describe the mix of modern and antique. 

“You want a cup of tea or a shower first?”  
“Is there a chance for a coffee?”  
Seona blinked once, very slowly. “I don’t touch that stuff with a fucking ten foot pole. But if you want to have a shower then I hop into the store and buy some. Is instant okay? I don’t have a coffee maker.”  
“As long as it contains caffeine I’m fine.”  
“Let me show you around, then.”

In the living room were two very comfy looking Chesterfield sofas with enough pillows for several households, and the bedroom featured a king size bed and a fireplace.

“It’s only a gas fire,” Seona explained. “But it’s quite cosy when it’s stormy and rainy outside. And this being Scotland, we get that a lot.”

Their eyes simultaneously fell onto the thick rug in front of the fire.

“Let me show you the bathroom, then.” Seona quickly left the room, and Anders shook his head with a sigh. But the bathroom at least was modern and rather luxurious. “Here’s towels, and I bought you a bathrobe in a charity shop, only two fifty. But I washed it.” She winked. “I leave you to it, then. See you later!”

Left to his own devices, Anders tried not to think and instead took a long, satisfying shower. The bathrobe was smooth, green satin and felt very pleasant on his bare skin, but on his way back to the bedroom his eyes fell onto the thick, fluffy rug again. After staring at that for another moment, Anders tore his eyes away and opened his suitcase. 

He settled for casual, and was sitting on the bed in comfy slacks and a T-shirt putting on his socks when Seona came back. 

“I didn’t know which one to buy, so I brought the fair trade and the regular stuff,” she yelled from the kitchen. “I have no idea, really, to me every coffee tastes like burned tires!”

Anders looked at his feet for a moment and got up with a sigh. This was still fucking awkward, and it got worse by the minute.

“Cuppa?” She asked with a smile when he entered the kitchen.   
“Does that mean coffee?”  
“In your case, yes.” She handed him a mug. “I put a bit of cold water in because... I could imagine you don’t want to wait for it to cool right now.”  
Anders stared at the coffee, and back at her. “You’re an angel.”

She smiled sweetly and turned around, fished the teabag out of her cup with a spoon and unceremoniously dropped both into the sink. At that point Anders had already poured half of the coffee down his throat.

When she turned around again, the uncomfortable silence was back. 

Anders was just about to suggest that maybe he should move into a hotel when she stepped closer. Then she reached out and traced a single finger down his cheek and through his beard. She was so close now their bodies touched.

At that moment Anders realised that he had no idea why he was acting like this and that there was no reason whatsoever to not go with the flow. So obviously this wasn't meant as a one night stand, but after all, she had set this up together with Christine, so she definitely had an interest in him. And for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t neutered, he was still Anders fucking Johnson, and even if he was past forty he still had a body he did not need to be ashamed of – and neither did she – and it still worked just fine, thank you very much.

Anders had more or less stopped going to clubs for hook-ups by now. Women close to his age were either taken or after something serious, and a single father wasn’t high on their wish list even if that son was grown by now. Younger women saw him as a man in a boring marriage and a midlife crisis looking for a new kick, and speculated about how to milk him for expensive gifts. 

So maybe they were acting like teenagers having a holiday flirt. Maybe not. Maybe they were just adults knowing what they wanted and taking it, aware of the consequences and completely out of fucks. But he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for months. And the same was true for her. 

And here he was, with the one woman who just wanted him. Anders Johnson. And she was beautiful and funny and had the most adorable, impish smile he had ever seen, and a sense of humour to match his own, and he would have given her so much more than this... but as it was, he had two weeks now, and he would make them count. 

Sapphire and emerald eyes met, and he smiled at her.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked softly.  
“I’d be an idiot if I say no to that,” he replied and rested his hands on her hips.   
“True,” she replied with a chuckle. “Come here.”

Their lips touched, and they tightened their embrace as they opened their lips to each other. And then their kisses turned from soft and tender into heated and passionate, and suddenly they were on their way to the bedroom without having made a conscious decision to do so.

In the empty kitchen, a cup of tea and half a cup of coffee cooled forgotten on the table.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in bed, but even with the jet lag and exhaustion from the long haul flight, Anders got no chance whatsoever to fall asleep. Not that he felt any urge to do so.

Dinner was pasta, and they went to bed again, but it was late and both were getting tired at that point. It was dark outside, and Seona had lit the gas fire before sliding under the blanket and snuggling up against him. Now she was resting her head on his shoulder and trailed her hand up and down his chest.

“I could get used to this,” she said softly.  
Anders had to smile. “Me in your bed?”  
“I haven’t had sex this good in years.”  
“Careful with saying things like that. They might get into my head.”  
“I sincerely hope so,” Seona replied with her impish smile and moved her hand lower.  
“I was talking about the other head,” Anders replied and closed his eyes with a long, drawn out sigh.   
Seona chuckled and slipped her hand into his briefs.

“But seriously,” she went on, her clever fingers moving in a gentle caress. “Men seem to think that women turn into toothless old crones with forty.”  
Anders couldn’t do more than emit a low hum.  
“I mean, flirting is okay, but as soon as I try to get serious, the grey hairs apparently act as a repellent.”  
“Not that you have a lot of those,” Anders replied on another sigh.   
She chuckled again but didn’t stop what her fingers were doing. 

“But apparently the repellent doesn’t work on you.”  
“I’ve got my share of grey hairs myself and I’m not happy about them, vain as I am. Don’t seem to bother you, though.” Anders cracked one eye open and smiled.  
“As long as we don’t start comparing our various little gouts and medication and...”  
“Jesus Christ!” Anders had to laugh despite the hand in his briefs. “Are we having geriatric sex?”  
“You answer that yourself,” Seona replied in a low voice and vanished under the blanket. 

“Jesus....” Anders said again, though the reason this time was a completely different one. Christ, that woman seemed to have no gag reflex whatsoever. “Oh god...” 

When Anders was able to breathe properly again he opened his eyes to find Seona look at him with an incredibly smug smile on her face. 

“Geriatric?”  
“Well... I did forget my name,” Anders muttered. “But I don’t think it had anything to do with Alzheimer’s.”

They shared a smile. 

“Now that we got that out of the way,” Seona began. “Can you live with the fact while you’re here that I can’t cook to save my life?”  
“As long as you blow me like that? Absolutely.”  
Seona giggled. “So you cook and I blow you?”  
“Sounds like a fair sharing of the workload.” He grinned at her.   
“What if I blow you while you’re cooking?”  
“I don’t think even I would be able to produce anything edible then.”  
“Depends on how you define edible,” Seona replied with a dirty little smirk and suggestively licked her lips.  
“You’ll be the death of me,” Anders whispered with a grin he knew had to look absolutely idiotic.

“Should we put that to the test?” Seona sat up and straddled his hips.  
Anders looked down at himself and up at her again with a crooked grin. “And what do you think you’re doing now?”  
“Living up to my name. I’m going to make your cock burn.”  
Anders burst out laughing. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said after he had gotten his breath back. “I’m flattered what you think my virility capable of, but can we postpone the burning cock til tomorrow? I’m afraid my age is catching up with me. And the jet lag as well.”

Seona lowered herself down beside him again and trailed a gentle finger down his cheek. “Let’s blame it on the jet lag,” she said softly. “I don’t think old age has anything to do with those dark shadows under your eyes.”  
“It’s a relief you’d think so.”

She placed a gentle kiss onto his lips and leaned over him to switch off the small lamp on the night stand, leaving only the small gas fire to light the room. 

He fell asleep with her fingers gently carding through his hair.

* * *

Anders woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon and the sound of eighties rock. There were definitely worse things to wake up to, and he swung his legs out of the bed with a smile, despite the urgent wish he could just fall asleep again. But he had to battle the jet lag, and he was hungry.

“I thought you couldn’t cook?” He asked as he entered the kitchen.  
“Oh, it’s awake!” Seona turned away from the stove with a bright smile. “Well I can’t, really, but I do know how to fry eggs and bacon.”  
Anders stretched and had another look around. “You wouldn’t have any cereals to complement that?”  
“Cereals? I didn’t know you fry cereals down under. How do you fry cereals?”  
“Down under is Australia and we don’t fry cereals, you egg. There’s things like a non-fried breakfast.”  
“Non-fried breakfast?”  
“Yes?”  
“You call that breakfast?”

Anders blinked a few times and Seona stared back with wide eyes before she burst out laughing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but we do have a thing for deep frying everything here.”  
“Everything?”  
Seona nodded and slid eggs and bacon onto two plates. “Oh aye. You can get deep fried pizza at most chippies.”  
Anders made a gagging noise.  
“But you really should try a deep fried Mars bar.”  
“Are you fucking serious?”  
“Yep. You can deep fry everything.”  
“Do you deep fry Haggis too?”  
“Don’t be ridiculous!” She put the plates down. “Of course we do!”

Anders sat down and stared at his plate. “How comes you’re not all the size of a house?”  
“Oh, that’s easy enough.”  
Picking up his fork, Anders gave her a questioning yet very suspicious look.   
“It’s the Haggis hunting,” she explained. “Those hairy wee beasties are really hard to catch.”  
He rolled his eyes. “You just had to say that, didn’t you?”  
Seona chuckled. “Sorry, too tempting.”  
“Lady, you’re a walking cliché.”  
“Och aye.” She winked. “And I want to make a trip with you to Inverness and do some Nessie Spotting.”  
Now it was Anders’s turn to chuckle. “Russell would love that.”

They shared another grin and after breakfast, Anders let her drag him out of the house for some sightseeing. He was still tired and jet-lagged, but Edinburgh was an amazing city. If you avoided the ethnic food.

They stopped at TESCO on their way home and Anders did some shopping, watched by a very bemused Seona. Back at her place he told her to stand back and leave dinner to him, and despite her meagre equipment he made do and was able to present her with a moussaka. 

Impressed and delighted as she was, Seona didn’t leave him a chance to start cleaning up after dinner and dragged him into the bedroom again to ‘keep her end of the bargain’. Anders didn’t complain. 

They facilitated the thick and fluffy rug in front of the fireplace this time, and Anders welcomed the opportunity to replace his memories of cuddling with a woman under a blanket while staring into a fire with something decidedly more positive. 

The rest of the two weeks passed by in what was more than a dream but somehow less than reality. 

Seona introduced him to Scottish ale and whiskey. Anders introduced her to classy cocktails, especially his personal favourite, the Vodka Martini. 

She had no problems whatsoever with Anders talking about his son occasionally, and even though she ensured him she had taken _proper_ precautions to never get pregnant since she never wanted kids, she declared herself happy to just adopt Russell. 

The only thing she was a little self-conscious about was the scar on her lower abdomen, a reminder of a severe appendicitis that had almost cost her life at the age of twelve and that had needed two surgeries. And for the first time in his life, Anders found himself not bothered at all by what he usually tended to see as a blemish on a woman’s body. He placed a kiss onto that scar and forgot about it. 

They made a lot of happy memories during those two weeks, both of them ignoring the fact that pretty soon, their little bubble outside of time and reality would burst again. They had two weeks, and they both made them count.

* * *

“Will you come again some time?” Seona asked, ignoring the people pushing past them on their way to catch their planes.  
“I hope so,” Anders replied, but his heart was heavy in his chest. “But as soon as I’m home the Christmas madness starts and all the world wants new ads _now_ , and after that it’s soon Easter and the same madness all over again... I don’t know if I’d be able before the next winter. Or summer. Depending on your hemisphere.”  
Seona nodded mutely.  
“What about you? You showed me your home town, and I’d love to show you mine. And I could make you the best Martini in the world. I mix an absolute killer Martini.”

“Sounds brilliant.” Her beautiful smile still didn’t return. “You know...” She sighed. “I’m starting a new job next week. It’s... it’s something I’ve been dreaming of for years now. And I don’t think... I can’t just fuck off for a few weeks after just having started.”  
“Of course not.”

They stared at each other in unhappy silence.

“So it’s going to be a long time, huh?” She didn’t even pretend to try and smile.  
“Looks like it.”

After another moment she sighed and went on in a very low voice. “I’m not sure I can handle this. I don’t know how. I know there’s Skype, and it’s talking, but again, it’s not really talking... and I still couldn’t... we couldn’t be in any way...”  
“Close,” Anders finished for her and tucked a strand of curls behind her ear. “I know.”  
“So this is it?”  
“Not because I want to.” He felt a lump in his throat, but there was no way this could ever work.

They embraced again, and both were reluctant to let go. 

“Thank you for two wonderful weeks,” she whispered. “I’ll treasure it always.”  
“So will I.” Anders placed a last, gentle kiss onto her lips. “Don’t forget me.”  
“As if I ever could.” She smiled, her eyes misting over. “As if I ever could forget my favourite Kiwi dick.”  
“And how many Kiwi dicks have you had so far?”  
“One. My favourite.”  
“Idiot.” He had to smile.   
“Pleasure. Name’s Seona.”

After staring mutely at each other for another moment they both slung their arms around each other for one last, desperate and hungry kiss. Then Seona stepped back, her cheeks wet. 

“Fuck off already,” she whispered and spun around.

Anders watched her go in what was almost a run, and turned around with a sigh after she had vanished out of sight.

He felt strangely numb inside, even as he changed flights in London. But at some point on his way to Singapore, as he was staring at the clouds out of the small window in the plane, it all came down on him at once. 

By sheer bloody chance, he had found the one woman in the world whom he would have given everything, and he would never see her again.


	37. Chapter 37

Christine picked him up at the airport and gave him a lift home, but she didn’t ask anything about Edinburgh. Anders wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet, and so they spent the time in the car in silence. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek after he had taken his suitcase out of the boot, and he watched her pull out of the driveway. 

Then he turned around and unlocked the door.

“Hey Dad!” Russell all but pounced on him and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug.  
“Christ!” Anders stepped back and straightened his jacket with a grin. “You spend too much time around your uncle Axl!”

Danny was there too, and he greeted Anders with a firm and warm handshake. Russell and Danny had made dinner, although Danny insisted that the dinner was actually Russell’s work and he had just been the dogsbody. 

Anders looked at the moussaka that Russell had set onto the table, and back up at his son with a cocked eyebrow. 

But after the first forkful he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he reached for his glass.

“Son,” he said gravely and lifted it. “You’re a man now, ready to go your own way. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”  
Russell blushed and grinned, but he lifted his glass as well. “Thank you, Dad.”  
“I mean it,” Anders said after a sip of wine. “Although you’re really more than welcome to stay a bit longer if you want.”

Russell and Danny exchanged a small smile.

“So,” Anders leaned back. “I can imagine you enjoyed the last two weeks, so... Do I have to bleach every surface in the house or did you keep it to the bed?”  
“DAD!” 

Russell’s face turned stark crimson and Danny almost choked on a bit of food that had gone the wrong way. He was laughing and coughing so hard Anders was worried he would have to call an ambulance. Eventually though Danny’s facial colour returned to normal, but he was still chuckling. 

Russell’s face was still glowing. “Dad, you’re an ass.”  
“Breaking News.”  
“Christ!”  
“It’s a valid question!”  
“Dad!”

Danny was trying to focus on his food, but it was clear that he wouldn’t stop grinning anytime soon.

“I was actually going to say,” Russell began after a moment. “Danny and I are thinking of moving in together.”  
Anders looked up from his plate and finished chewing. “You know your minds, of course. I think it’s going a bit fast, but...” He shrugged.  
“I mean...” Russell went on. “It’s not that...”  
“We’ve been talking about it for a while now,” Danny joined in. “Even before... you know. This.”  
“So you planned on becoming flatmates?” Anders looked back and forth between them.  
“That was the plan, yes,” Russell replied with a small grin. “And you know... we would still look for something with two separate rooms.”  
“Yeah, we’re both not ready to play family yet,” Danny added. 

Russell’s facial colour darkened again, but Danny took one of his hands with a soft smile, and as Russell smiled back he relaxed and the glow on his face vanished. 

“I’m not going to stop you,” Anders said after a moment in a low voice. “Though I have to admit it’ll be weird living alone in this huge house. After all it was you and Al who made me buy it.”  
“Dad...”  
“What? That’s nothing but the truth!”

Danny looked very confused.

“Back then, when I was looking for a place for us two to live,” Anders explained to him. “I was looking at smaller houses, but none of them was right. But as I was browsing houses, little Russ caught sight of one on my screen and told me it was nice. I put it into the list of houses to look at just to do him a favour, and it turned out the only one that was okay. It was also the only one where little Russ...”  
“Dad!”  
“...where little Russ willingly let go of my trouser leg and I found him down here playing with his alligator and Iron Man. Telling me Al liked the house.”  
“So you bought it.”  
“Russell, Al and the house ganged up on me,” Anders replied and picked up his glass. “I wasn’t given a choice.”

Russell rolled his eyes and Danny grinned. 

“So, as I said, it’s gonna be weird, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t move out whenever you’re ready.”  
Russell gave his father a smile that was part embarrassed, part wistful. “Dad... I mean, it’s not going to happen anytime soon, you know? We have to find something we still can afford after I stop working for Uncle Axl and start uni.”  
“So you’re not going to Norway?” Anders cast a worried look at his son.  
Russell shrugged and looked at his plate. “I’m thinking about Oslo,” he said. “I kind of... I don’t think Trondheim is still an option.”  
“I don’t think it would, either.”  
“So, Oslo maybe. But I won’t go there before Danny is finished.”  
“Plans on going there together?”  
“Plans, yes,” Danny replied. “See how it pans out in a few years.”

Russell and Danny exchanged another look that was clearly meant to not be lovesick. Anders suppressed a smirk.

Danny didn’t stay overnight this time, leaving Russell and Anders to catch up. They settled down in the living room with the remainder of the wine, but Anders didn’t go into any detail of what he had done in Edinburgh. He didn’t leave his son in any doubt about that he had had two amazing weeks, but that was all he said. 

“Anything interesting happen here?” He asked instead.  
Russell swallowed hard.  
“Russ?”  
He hesitated before he spoke again. “I just hate having so many things that I can’t talk about with Danny,” he finally said. “But... I had a fucking weird dream the other night. And I couldn’t tell Danny what it was, though he was right there when I woke up.”  
“A nightmare?”  
“No.” Russell put his glass down and clamped both hands between his knees. 

Anders put his own glass down and looked at his son in alarm.

“It was just fucking weird,” Russell said again. “You know that kind of dream where you’re running, not away, but to get somewhere? Like, you really, really need to be there already, and shit keeps happening and you know you’re too late and you just keep on running?”  
“Fuck yeah. But that’s not all it was, was it?”  
“No.” Russell still hadn’t looked at him. “I was, like, running... trying to get somewhere, and suddenly I was...there was a tree, but it wasn’t the Yggdrasil, you know?”  
Anders had tensed at the word tree, but he relaxed again somewhat.

“And it was just... it was snowing, but it wasn’t snow. It was... petals, from the tree. It was flowering and raining petals.” Russell ran both hands through his hair and picked at his fingers. “And... I heard laughter, but it wasn’t evil... it sounded... happy.”

Anders waited, but he had to wait for a long time.

“They were... they were beautiful,” Russell whispered finally. “Beautiful, but I couldn’t understand what they said, and they had long hair and wore white robes and... I had no idea if they were men or women, and they...”  
“Did they hurt you?”  
“No.” Russell managed a small smile.” No, they didn’t. It was... it was...” Russell’s voice lowered even more, and Anders had a hard time understanding him. “They just... they danced around the tree, and they took my hands and I joined them... and they laughed, and... it was so... wonderful, I didn’t want to go again. I was so sad when I woke up I almost bawled like a baby. And now I... I just can’t stop thinking about it, about the tree, and these beautiful people, and I just...”

He broke off again and looked up at his father. Their eyes met in a long moment of silence and Anders felt a shiver creep down his spine.

“How many were there?” He finally asked, his voice very low and gentle.  
“Four,” was the husky reply.

They just kept looking at each other.

“They made it, right? It was them, and they made it, right? Dad?”  
“I don’t know what else that could have been.”

Russell sighed and fell against his father, and Anders closed both arms around him. 

“We all made it home,” Russell muttered into Anders’s shoulder. “We all made it home, Dad.”  
“We did.” Anders closed his eyes with a smile. “We’re all home.”

* * *

After that day, Anders felt another huge load off his chest, and he was pretty sure it was the same for his son. He hadn’t even been aware of how much the fate of the light elves had been weighing on his mind, but knowing now for certain that their fears had not come true, he could close another chapter of the recent past and stop looking back so much.

Looking forward now he saw his son planning to leave home for good, and maybe doing so with the man he loved, because that it was love and not a crush was crystal clear by now. It showed in the way they talked to each other, the way they looked at each other, the way Russell had had Danny’s back through the whole family crisis in Danny’s home. 

That was all sorted now; apparently their son suddenly vanishing for a few days after their argument had been all the wake-up call his parents had needed to remember he was their son and what he meant to them, and how irrelevant the cause of their anger had been. 

Anders could also see it in the way Danny would sit on the floor next to Russell when the latter was playing the piano, his back leaning against Russell’s leg as he listened to the music with his eyes closed – and who would have imagined that a metalhead like Danny would like Mozart and Bach, but here they were – and the way Russell would look affectionately down at him. 

He had seen it the day when Danny had approached him one Saturday morning with a deeply worried frown, asking for advice about helping Russell deal with his nightmares. They had had a long conversation that morning, and Anders was left in no doubt about that Danny would never take advantage of Russ when he was vulnerable like that and only wanted to do what was best for him, to help him get over it again.

And he had seen it during the time after Danny’s grandmother had died an unexpected early death, when Russell had refused to leave his side until the shock had worn off and then spent hours holding him while Danny came to terms with the loss of his beloved nana.

So maybe they were both young, Danny just twenty and Russell just close to nineteen, but like fuck would Anders just think they were too young to know their minds. So maybe it wasn’t their happily ever after, but what if it was? Was twenty too early to find the love of your life? And if it wasn’t, it still wasn’t Anders’s business. They were happy together right now, and that was all that mattered. 

In all honesty, Anders was a little jealous sometimes, but that didn’t stop him from being happy for his son, and Danny too. 

Sometimes it was too easy to imagine the two standing side by side at the altar, each wearing a smart blue tux, and the thought always made Anders grin. True, he was still feeling far too young to be a grandfather – if they so decided they would go that way – but he also knew he would feel too young to be a grandfather when he was seventy. 

Such meaningless trains of thoughts only happened when his brain was too idle however, and taking on some extra workload and challenging projects usually took care of those and the memories of the two weeks he had spent in Edinburgh. The two of them occasionally exchanged meaningless emails, but those had become far and few between. Somehow, it felt too painful to hold on. Anders didn’t talk about it, though, and Russell didn’t ask.

* * *

Anders noticed that Russell was withdrawn and distant during the days immediately preceding his nineteenth birthday despite party preparations, and he didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to know just why that was the case. On the evening before the birthday, he took his son aside and settled down with him and a drink in the living room.

”I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “But if you do, I’ll listen.”

Russell’s signature shrug looked like it always did. Anders waited.

“Feels weird that it’s already a year,” Russell finally said. “Sometimes it feels like ten. And some days, like it only happened last week.”  
Anders simply nodded and took a sip of his beer.  
“And it... I don’t know.” Russell kept clutching his bottle. “I’m kind of... I’m waiting for the nightmares. But... I know it should be a good thing, but it feels as if the worst is yet to come and...”  
“Hey.” Anders put his bottle down and took one of Russell’s hands. “You know you can always wake me up, no matter the time, okay?”

Russell’s smile looked a little forced. “Thanks, Dad. But...” He put his own bottle down and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just afraid it’ll happen again when Danny’s sleeping over and I don’t... I don’t want to go running to my dad just because I woke up from a bad dream.”  
“Danny knows what’s happened to you,” Anders replied. “He's dealt with your nightmares before, and he will understand. He’s the last person to blame you for it. He’s a better man than that.”  
Russell looked up again, and the hopeless fear in his eyes began to vanish. “You’re probably right.”  
“Not probably,” Anders gave back firmly. “You and I both know that Danny will stick to you know matter what.”

At that, Russell’s unhappy smile turned into a real one. He looked down at his hands again after a moment, however.

“Dad... but what if I get a flashback tomorrow... I mean, it was my birthday, and I was just walking home slightly drunk, and suddenly there was this van stopping beside me, and a guy hopped out and pulled a sack over my head and I...” His eyes widened, and Anders quickly took both of Russell’s hands.  
“If you do, then you let Danny and Emma take you upstairs and take care of it,” he said firmly. “They both know how to handle you.”  
“It’ll ruin the party.”  
“Not necessarily.”

It took him some time, but eventually, Russell looked up again at his father. 

“I guess thinking you should be here is a little childish.”  
“It’s not childish at all, and if you really want me to, then I’ll stay,” Anders replied. “But I still don’t want to be the one person who raises the average age at that party by ten years.”  
Finally, Russell had to grin. “I can give you a call if it’s bad, right?”  
“Absolutely. I’m only a phone call away. But now you should try to stop thinking about it and start looking forward to your party.”

Russell’s grin widened into something truly happy and he picked up his bottle.

“How many people are coming tomorrow again?”  
“Twelve.”  
“Only twelve?” Anders took his own drink again. “Quality over quantity, hm?” He winked.  
“Absolutely.” Russell chuckled. “I crossed people out who seem to have a problem with me and Danny, or with Emma for that matter.”  
“Emma? Why would anyone have a problem with Emma? Is she into girls?”  
“No.” Russell took a sip. “She’s not into anyone, actually. She said she’s never been in love and can’t really get the whole thing, and she also told me the thought of sex is repulsive. So yeah... guess she’s ace. And she’s pissed off by people telling her she will change her mind and hasn’t found the right person yet.”  
“As if that was anyone’s business.”  
“Fuck yeah.”

“So you are gay, and your boyfriend is bi, and your best friend is asexual. I guess there may be people who have a problem with that.” Anders took another sip of his drink. “Probably think it’s contagious.”  
“You know what some people called us at Patrick’s party? And later at Simon’s, as well... you know the one Danny and I came home from.” A faint blush crept onto his cheeks.  
“No,” Anders said, ignoring the blush and biting back his grin. “What?”  
“The queer clover,” Russell gave back.  
Anders couldn’t suppress a snort.  
“Yeah, and I was pretty insulted at first, and Danny was miffed, but then Emma said fuck them, we’re gonna make that our trademark. So now we’re the queer clover. Deal with it.”

Anders took another sip of his drink. “I should probably wear a rainbow tie tomorrow.”  
This time it was Russell who snorted. “If you do that, Dad, I’ll do the dishes until Christmas.”  
“That’s a tempting offer if ever I heard one.” Anders lifted his bottle.  
Russell lifted his own. “And you get another ADA.”  
The bottle froze halfway up his mouth. “A fucking what?”  
“Awesome Dad Award.”

They both burst out laughing. By then, Russell had completely forgotten about flashbacks and nightmares.

* * *

Anders left work early the next day, and when he came home everyone else of the family had arrived, kids and all. There were cupcakes, snacks, drinks, and coffee, and a few of Russell’s friends were already there too, including Danny and Emma.

Russell’s face when Anders entered was absolutely priceless. His eyes didn’t fall out of his head, and neither did his chin hit the floor, but it was a near thing.

“Dad, for fuck’s sake!”  
“What?”  
“You’re not fucking serious!”  
“The fuck does it look like?”

Dawn heaved a heavy sigh. “Could you two please mind your language? Just a bit?”

Friends and family alike were looking back and forth between the two of them. Emma was the first to catch on.

“Anders you crazy ass!” She yelled and threw herself at him with a happy squeal.  
“Flattered,” Anders replied as she peeled herself away again. “I guess.”  
“Dad...” Russell ran both hands through his hair to smooth it back and cast a desperate look at the kitchen.  
“What?” Danny asked, giving him a worried look.  
“We talked about us, I mean, you and me and Emma, yesterday, and he said he should wear a rainbow tie, and I said if he does that I’ll do the dishes until Christmas.”

At that, everyone around them had to laugh.

“Oh.” Danny looked at Anders, grinned, and back at his boyfriend. “Tough luck, dude.”  
“But,” Anders said, extending a forefinger. “You also said I get another Awesome Dad Award.”  
“I sort that!” Emma yelled happily. “I can do that! No probs!”  
“Yeah, whatever.” Russell was still staring at the kitchen.  
“Maybe Danny will give you a hand,” Anders said.  
Russell cast a hopeful look at Danny.  
“If you make it worth his while,” Anders added helpfully.  
“DAD!” Russell’s face was on fire, and Danny guffawed. 

Grinning, Anders adjusted the rainbow coloured tie and went to get himself a coffee.

“You know,” Ty said, stepping beside him. “Given how much you used to take the piss back then about your brother being gay, you certainly go a long way for your son.” But the smile on his face took the edge off his words.  
Anders pressed his lips together, then looked at Ty with a slightly apologetic smile. “Ty,” he said slowly and draped an arm around his shoulders. “A wise man once said that experience is like the stem light of a ship, lighting only where you’ve been, not where you’re going.”  
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  
“That I know I was a prick and acted like an asshole, but that I’m willing to learn from past mistakes.”

The two of them smiled at each other before they hugged. 

In the kitchen, Danny and Emma were helping Russell to load the dishwasher.

* * *

That evening Anders left the young folks to themselves and took refuge with Christine. The two of them made dinner and settled down with some drinks and music afterwards with the TV pretending to be a fireplace.

“Are you ever going to talk about it?” Christine asked after almost half an hour of silence.  
Anders shrugged.  
“You know you look exactly like Russell when you do that?”  
At that, he looked up with a crooked grin. “Yeah... I know.”

Christine didn’t press the matter any further and took a sip of her drink.

“Chris...” Anders finally said, and then he didn’t know how to proceed. He put his drink down onto the table and clamped his hands between his knees. Christ, he and Russ were really mirror images of each other. 

Christine put her glass down as well. 

“I can’t... I don’t even know... I don’t know anything anymore.” Anders could hardly recognise his own voice. “I never... I’ve never met someone like her. She’s perfect, I mean... she’s beautiful, and funny, and snarky, and she’s...” He broke off with another helpless shrug.  
“I can’t deny I’m curious,” Christine said slowly. “How does she look like?”  
Anders dug into a pocket and produced his phone. He loaded a picture and showed that to Christine. 

It was taken in a pub, a selfie of both of them, and they were clearly more than a little inebriated to judge by the way they grinned into the camera.

“Oh my god, Anders,” Christine said with a sigh. “You’re right. She’s gorgeous.”  
Anders took the phone back and stared at the picture. “I never felt like this,” he said softly. “I never fell that hard and fast for anyone, not even you, and I just...” He finally looked up at his friend. “She’s perfect, Christine. She’s perfect, and I would... I would give her everything. Everything. But we live on separate ends of the world and we both got our lives and our families and it just... it can’t be, I know, and I knew that from the beginning, and...” He took a deep breath, and that was the final straw. He buried his face in his hands.

“Shit...” he rasped. “Chris, I miss her like fuck.”  
Christine moved closer and slung both arms around him.  
Anders fell against her with a rusty sob. “Oh god, this is fucking ridiculous!”  
“Not to me it isn’t.”  
“Chris... what am I supposed to do now?”  
“I have no idea,” Christine replied and pressed her cheek into his hair. “I have no fucking clue, Anders. If I could magick her here, I would.”

Anders buried his face into her shoulder and she held on as tightly as she could. Her phone rang from the kitchen, but she ignored it and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I miss her,” Anders whispered, hardly audible anymore.  
Christine closed her eyes and had no idea what to reply.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. The end of a journey that started with a [tumblr post](http://ledamemangociana.tumblr.com/post/89634618411/almightyjohnsonsconfessions-a-storyline-i-have) I found on my dash last autumn and [ a song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nd4j1Ms1VYE&index=10&list=PLOiBGKO9p7zvNj2ycxvvHJv-_iyG5nqpH) I came across on youtube that turned into the theme song for Unintended Consequences. Then it all got out of hand and here we are, more than half a year and almost 200 000 words later. 
> 
> I’d like to thank all you for your comments, for sticking with me and for not despairing at my madness. 
> 
> Special thanks to 
> 
> Filikilithorinforever again, my invaluable Kiwi consultant  
> Calamity-kitten for spending hours with me playing headcanon ping pong and giving me even more crazy ideas  
> TV3 and Dean for The almighty Johnsons
> 
> Now let’s head over to Mike’s bar for a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Father and Son](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCQVnSOFqfM&list=PLOiBGKO9p7zvNj2ycxvvHJv-_iyG5nqpH&index=16), theme song for Two Volumes  
>  I made a mouseover translation as not to leave you as clueless as Olaf, you’ll know it when you see it.
> 
> * * *

After the breakdown at Christine’s, Anders tried to keep thinking to a minimum. He buried himself in his work, and took work home with him every single day.

Sometimes he would sit and daydream, lost in memories of Edinburgh. At other times, he would try to avoid these memories at all costs and would rather have forgotten about them. The Christmas business kept him occupied and he worked every evening until the letters on the screen in front of him began to blur. 

Russell knew his father better than to complain about it. And sometimes, Anders wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. What with them being so close, Anders began to worry that Russell was postponing moving out because of him and a weird need to take care of his dad. It made everything only worse. He wasn’t a nursing case. 

Anders tried going out again to distract himself and for the first time in ages, went out and into his favourite club. After half an hour he had a young woman in her mid-twenties at his arm, but looking at her and realising he was literally old enough to be her father Anders smiled, bought her a drink, and left again. 

At home that night he got so drunk he almost couldn’t make it up the stairs. Thankfully Russell wasn’t home and didn’t have to see him like that. 

Christine repeatedly told him to keep in touch. He repeatedly told her that it was completely moot point to do that. And he was furious with himself to act like that. He still couldn’t get over her, and Edinburgh had only made it worse. He sincerely wished by now he hadn’t gone. 

With the Christmas business keeping his mind from wandering most of the time, that year Anders wasn’t really looking forward to the holidays and the time off. He locked the office behind him on the last day of work and wondered if he should just work Christmas after all and only be at home for the family gathering. 

It was a very appealing thought. 

After closing the door behind him Anders could see Russ and Danny were home already, and he found them standing in the kitchen, with Russell leaning against the counter and Danny crowding him against it. They were completely oblivious of his presence.

Anders watched them snog for a moment before pointedly clearing his throat. The two jumped away from each other. 

“Evening,” he said.  
“Christ, Dad!” Russell smoothed his hair back. Danny was grinning and trying to hide it behind one hand.  
“I see you are busy in the kitchen, but mind if I make myself some dinner?”

Danny took Russell’s hand and dragged him out of the kitchen. Anders headed for the fridge and gave the counter a long pointed look before looking at his son again.

“Dad!” Russell’s face reddened. “We were just kissing, for fuck’s sake!”  
“It actually looked like you were trying to eat his tongue stud.”  
“Fuck you!” Russell dragged both hands down his face while Danny erupted into laughter.  
“Dude,” he said after getting his breath back. “How did you survive puberty with that man?”  
“It’s a mystery.” Russell shot his father a murderous glance and looked back at his boyfriend. “But as far as I remember it wasn’t as bad back then because he was still going out and getting laid.”

Anders closed the fridge door and turned around. 

“What?” Russell stared at his father. “You just keep making these fucking stupid jokes and take the piss all the bloody time as if you can’t stand to see me happy and just want Danny out of the house again!”  
“Russell!” Danny took his arm but Russell shook it off.  
“It’s not my fault you can’t get a woman...”  
“Russell!” Anders said sharply.  
“Or is it?” Russell yelled back. “You said you never blamed me but that’s just bullshit, you do blame me, and now you’re trying to get back at me or what?”  
“Russ, that’s enough!” Danny dragged him back and towards the table. 

With a slow move, Anders put the beer down and turned around to stare out of the window. 

The silence was so thick and heavy you cut have cut it into cubes and carry it outside.

“Dude, was that really necessary?”  
“I swear I’ve had it up to here with his acrid jokes.” Russell’s voice was trembling. “Why can’t he just be happy for me?”  
“He is.”

Anders turned around again. His face was ashen. “I am,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

With that he left the kitchen and hurried upstairs. 

Danny and Russell exchanged a long look.

“Really, I get it, Russ.” Danny put a hand on Russell’s shoulder. “If that was my dad it would make me mental too. But he was just taking the piss, and you were just real mean to him. Remember what you told me about London?”  
Russell swallowed hard.  
“Go up there and fix this.”  
“But...”  
Danny placed a kiss onto the tip of his nose. “Up you go.”

Russell took a deep breath and combed his fingers through his hair. Then he headed up the stairs. The door to the office was ajar, and Russell knocked very hesitantly.

“What.”  
“Dad? Can I come in?”  
“Sure.”

Russell closed the door behind him and leaned against it. Anders was sitting at the desk and stared at his phone.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry. I was a mean asshole for saying that.”  
“That doesn’t make it any less true now, does it?” Anders looked finally up. “I just keep taking the piss and you know what... I do not blame you, but I’m sure as fuck jealous sometimes. That’s how pathetic I am.”  
Russell bit his lip and swallowed again. “It’s not... Dad, you’re not pathetic, I understand. That’s why I feel like shit now, because I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry...”  
Anders stared at his phone again with a sigh. “Yeah... me too.”  
“Dad, I... oh for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t I keep my bloody mouth shut! I’m sorry!”  
“Because I provoked you, that’s why.” Anders put the phone down.  
“No, you didn’t, because you keep taking the piss like that all the time and I’m pretty used to it now and really... and it’s not your fault you cockblocked me because I couldn’t stop thinking about Danny on his knees instead of taking it upstairs!”

His eyebrows raising into his hairline Anders looked up at his son whose face looked as if it was about to spontaneously self-combust.  
Russell shrugged with a helpless, crooked, embarrassed little grin. 

A lopsided smile appeared on Anders’s face as he got up. “You know, that was almost TMI even for me.”  
Russell folded his hands behind his back for a moment, then looked up again. “Can you forgive me, then?”  
“I always do,” Anders replied and draped an arm around Russell’s shoulders. “And I already did.”  
Chewing his lips, Russell tried to smile. “Thanks, Dad.”  
“I expect you to make breakfast tomorrow, though.”  
“It’s a deal.”

They managed to exchange a small, but honest smile after their embrace. Danny had apparently made some coffee and the smell wafted enticingly up the stairs. 

By sheer chance, Russell cast a look at the phone still lying on the table, but he didn’t think anything of the message **Image deleted** on the screen.

* * *

Anders and Russell spent a quiet Christmas Eve together, just dinner and a bit of wine.  
Afterwards they settled down in the living room with another bottle of wine, but there was very little conversation, and lots of comfortable silence. Anders noticed that Russell kept giving him sideways looks, and at one point, lifted his eyebrows questioningly. Russell shook his head and took a hasty sip of wine. Anders didn’t press the matter.

Christmas day started as peacefully and quietly as Christmas Eve had ended. That quickly changed of course when, shortly before lunch, the whole family began to arrive. Within an hour the house was full of children and laughing and talking people. Layla was taking her first wobbly steps, clutching the hands of her brothers as she wasn’t able to hold herself upright just yet. Her delighted, four-toothed grin made everyone smile. 

At one point Anders noticed that Russell was looking at the clock every other minute.

“You waiting for someone? Is Danny coming over?”  
Russell grinned and shook his head. “Nope, I’m waiting for Christine and Emma. They’re coming with your present.”  
Anders rolled his eyes with a sigh. “I told you I don’t want presents. And especially not another plane ticket.”  
“It’s not a plane ticket,” Russell gave back smugly. “That’s why Emma and Christine come over, we had to have it delivered to their house.”

Anders lifted both eyebrows, took a sip of his coffee, but Russell refused to reveal anything else.

When the doorbell finally rang, Russell shot towards the door like a cannonball. 

“Heey!” He hugged first Emma, then Christine. “You all right?”  
“Hi, and happy Christmas!” Christine entered and smiled and waved cheerfully, returning all the happy smiles and waves. Then she came to halt in front of Anders.

“Happy Christmas, Anders.”  
“Happy Christmas, Christine.” He crossed his arms. “What is it this time you have concocted?”  
Christine gave him the sweetest smile possible. “Whatever are you talking about?”  
“Russell mentioned a present, and you know how I think about those.”  
She laughed and patted his arm. “I know. But I think this time you won’t.”  
“As long as it’s not another plane ticket.”

Christine smiled. That smile made Anders slightly nervous.

“Right.” Christine rubbed her hands together and turned around. “Ready?”  
Emma and Russell nodded eagerly.  
“Okay.” She looked at Anders again. “Turn around.”  
“For fuck’s sake.” Anders shook his head. “How old are we again?”  
“Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway,” Christine replied. “Turn around.”

Anders sighed, resigned to his fate, and turned his back to the door. He heard some shuffling about, footsteps, giggling and chuckling. 

“Okay, Anders!”

Anders turned around again and looked into the greenest eyes this side of Dublin. 

His cup fell out of his fingers, but luckily it was empty.

Seona gave him her brightest, sweetest smile. “Happy Christmas, Anders.”  
“The fuck are you doing here?” He blurted out helplessly.  
“I’m your Christmas present, you fannybawz. What does it look like?” Then she grinned and picked up the cup. “You dropped something.”  
He was dimly aware of people around him grinning and chuckling. “But...” Anders took the cup, put it down on the counter beside him and ran both hands through his hair.

Seona stepped closer. 

“You know,” she said, her smile softening. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you. And I was home at my mam’s, and I was sitting there complaining and she says Lassie, she says, stop the bloody whining and go after him! And I says Mam, I can’t do that! He lives on the other side of the world and we have our lives and our jobs!” She chuckled. “Then she says Lassie, since when’s your job the most important thing on your mind? You used to be more adventurous than that! And I says Mam, I can’t just go there, what if he don’t want me that much? And she says he’d be a fud if he wouldn’t know that a lass who comes after him across the world is a keeper. And so.” She held out her arms a bit and let her hands drop again. “Here I am.”

“For how long?” Was the only thing Anders could think of asking.  
“Oh, I stored my stuff in my mam’s basement, because, you know, she’s right. She’s always right, but don’t tell her that. So basically... as long as you’ll have me.”  
“But...”  
“But what?” Her eyes widened. “You don’t want me here after all?”  
“What? No! Yes!” Anders didn’t even hear the good-natured chuckles behind him. “Of course I do!”

“Oh well that’s a relief,” she said, a sparkle in her eyes. “It would’ve been fucking awkward otherwise.”  
Anders’s brain quite obviously hadn’t caught up yet. “But what are you going to do here?”  
“Oh, thankfully, this is Commonwealth, so I‘m looking for a job and a place to stay, not much visa hassle.” She stepped closer, her grin softening into a smile. “Christine said I could stay with her, but you know... I could think of places I’d rather be.”  
“I guess,” was all Anders could say, mesmerized by her closeness and the light in her eyes.  
“So,” she said and stepped a little closer yet. “Are ye gonna kiss me or not?”

Meeting her eyes and inhaling the fragrance of her hair, Anders began to smile and leaned forward. He gently cradled her face in his hands and buried his fingers into her hair. Her lips parted and she closed her eyes. 

The kiss started soft and tender but quickly heated up into passionate as they slung her arms around each other. Anders remained completely oblivious of Russell’s satisfied fist-pump and only heard the chuckles and soft laughter. 

Then a small, evil grin spread on Russell’s face. “Dad, stop playing tonsil hockey, there’s children around!”

Seona just about managed to break away before she burst out laughing. 

Anders gave his son a crooked grin. “Touché.” 

Then he looked at Seona again. They had their hands on each other’s hips.

“So,” she said. “You said you’d be happy to show me your home town.”  
“Absolutely.” Anders gave her a dimpled smile. “You get the whole Auckland experience from Waiheke to One Tree Hill and the night life too.”  
“And your favourite club?”  
“Fuck yeah. Every single night if you want it.” He ignored the chuckles in the background.

“Speaking of,” she said then and trailed a finger through his beard. “You promised me a killer Martini.”  
“Now?”  
Her impish smile was back. “No time like the present.”  
Anders had to laugh, but he let go of her and headed for the fridge. “You came a long way for a Martini,” he said as he took the bottles out and turned around. “It’s gonna be difficult to get a return of investment on that one with a Martini.”

Anders put the bottles onto the counter and took two glasses. Then he grabbed the olives from the fridge and set to work. 

“What with the price for a ticket,” he continued as he mixed and poured. “I’m afraid even my Martinis are probably not good enough.” He speared the olives with a practised elegant move.  
“Oh well. A couple then?”  
Anders laughed as he turned around with the two Martinis. “You need a lifetime supply of vodka for that.”  
Seona took her glass. “A lifetime supply of vodka?” She asked with a soft laugh. “That’s the weirdest proposal I’ve ever heard.”

Anders froze, glass half raised for a toast. He stared at her with his lips slightly parted and had apparently also forgotten how to blink. He closed his mouth and opened it again, but no sound emerged.

And the whole assembly of friends and family around him had the pleasure, for the first time ever, to see Anders Johnson rendered utterly and completely speechless.

After a moment of smiling at him with her sweet, impish smile, Seona put her glass down, plucked the glass out of his unresisting fingers and placed it next to hers. Then she draped both arms around his neck. 

At that moment Anders finally woke up from his stupor and felt a grin spread on his face that he knew he would be embarrassed about had he actually given a fuck about who was watching him right now. He pulled her close and into another kiss.

Around them, people cheered and clapped, and both Anders and Seona looked at each other with a somewhat self-conscious grin after they broke the kiss 

From the corner of his eyes, Anders saw Dawn and Christine high-five.

“Congratulations!” Olaf came hurrying over. “It’s about time someone made an honest man out of you, Anders!”

Seona stepped back and looked up at him. “Crickey, a giant! Who are you?”  
“I’m Cousin Olaf,” Olaf said and held out his hand.  
“Well aren’t you a braw lad,” she replied as she took it. “How’s the air up there?”  
“Refreshing,” Olaf replied with a grin.” Nice view, too.”  
Seona looked down at herself and the neckline of her blouse. She gave Olaf a hearty grin. “If ye don’t stop ogling my chebs I’ll give yer knob a Glasgow kiss,” she said sweetly.  
Olaf grinned back brightly, having quite obviously not understood a single word.

There was more laughter now, and subsequently there were a lot of handshakes, introductions and congratulations until finally, everyone was equipped with a drink and Anders and Seona accepted the toast to their health, with his arm draped around her shoulders and her arm around his hips. Then they kissed again, accompanied by loud cheering and clapping. 

Russell stepped closer to Seona with open arms. 

“Come here, my bonnie wee barra,” she said and pulled him into a fierce embrace.  
“Should I start calling you Mum, then?”  
“Call me whatever ye like, laddie.” She laughed as she leaned back.  
“Congratulations, Dad.” Russell stepped towards his father after the two had parted.  
Anders couldn’t help but grin. “Did you set that up?”  
“No.” Russell grinned with a shrug. “And yes. I went and talked to Christine, but at that point Seona had already called her, so it was just a bit of organizing with the plane ticket and getting her to arrive early enough so she’d be over the jet lag before today.”

Shaking his head with a fond smile Anders looked at his son. “Sorry about this... I know it’s a bit late to present you with a mum.”  
“Dad.” Russell smiled and took his father’s hands. “I never needed a mum. All I ever needed was you. The best dad ever.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other with both their eyes misting over before they embraced. 

“Love you, Dad,” Russell whispered. “You were and you’ll always be the best dad ever. The best that ever happened to me.”  
“Love you too,” Anders replied, likewise in a whisper. “And I’m so proud of you. Of the man you have become. My son.” He tightened his hold. “My son.”

Olaf wiped his eyes. “God, these two know to break hearts,” he muttered.  
“Oh aye, they do,” Seona replied with a sigh and wiped her eyes as well.

Russell and Anders stepped apart, having only eyes and ears for each other. 

Then they both simultaneously chuckled, father and son, two pairs of dimples in a mirroring smile.

* * *


	39. Epilogue

A big, huge, hearty thank you to the amazing [oursolitaire](http://oursesolitaire.tumblr.com/) for the lovely wedding picture. 

  


* * *

The wedding was a simple one, just a civil ceremony with the papers signed by both of them and the witnesses involved. They had both been opposed to the whole shebang with church and everything. 

But now, outside on the terrace in the garden behind the white house on Godden Crescent, Anders and Seona stood facing each other while making their oaths and exchanging their rings with only the family and closest friends around. Their heads were bowed over their joined hands, both looking at the unfamiliar gleam of gold around the third fingers of their left hands. 

And when they looked up again, their eyes sinking into each other’s, they bore the same slightly lovesick smile on their faces.

Olaf raised first his glass, then his voice. “You may now...”  
“Damn right I do,” Seona said, took a hold of Anders’s tie and tugged him into a kiss.  
“...kiss the groom,” Olaf finished and knocked back his glass.

When Anders leaned back with a chuckle and a shake of his head, Seona bit her lip and gave him her sweetest, impish smile. 

Something small hit his face and he looked up to see Dawn and Christine stand before them with small bags of rice. They threw another handful just for good measure.

“And how long have you two been waiting for this?” Anders asked and picked a few grains of rice out of his hair.  
“Too long,” Dawn replied with a bright smile. 

She exchanged first a look, then a firm nod with Christine, and then both of them dug into their bags and threw another handful of rice at the couple. Anders grinned with a shake of his head and Seona laughed.

“Right,” the bride said and turned around with her back to the crowd. “Here we GO!” And she threw her bouquet over her shoulder. 

Since the garden was rather small and she didn’t want to throw it over the fence she didn’t throw it in a high arc, but she threw it full of verve.

It hit Russell straight in the face and he grabbed it by sheer reflex.

Everyone in the garden erupted into howling laughter while Russell’s face took on a colour that suggested imminent thermonuclear explosion. At that moment Ruby planted herself in front of him with crossed arms and a furious expression on her face. Russell thrust the flowers at her as if they were burning him, but the laughter didn’t stop.

He cast a nervous look at his boyfriend next to him; Danny was doubled over and laughing so hard it looked as if he was about to sprain something. When he straightened up again and caught sight of Russell his laughter ebbed off, but his eyes were still sparkling as he stepped forward. He slung one arm around Russell’s midriff and French-dipped him before kissing the everliving daylights out of him. 

The laughter turned into cat calls and wolf whistles. 

Russell glared at him after Danny had released him, and he straightened his shirt and smoothed back his hair. His face was still burning when Danny slung an arm around him.

Anders grinned and pointed at his son with an unmistakable _You’re Next_ expression on his face.

“Dad, I’m only nineteen, for fuck’s sake!”  
“So? Doesn’t mean you have to wait as long as I did, does it now?”  
“Dad...”  
Anders draped an arm around Seona and pulled her close. “And if I had known back then that all it took for me to get this was for you to get laid as well I’d have hooked you up with Danny years ago.”

“DAD!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: [Slices of an Auckland Life](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6469171/chapters/16474672), a collection of side stories in the Unintended Consequences 'verse.
> 
> Part 4: [More than Words](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7255744/chapters/16474180), the story of the next generation of Johnsons. Or one particular Johnson, as it were.


End file.
